


Specials

by Yin



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 11:51:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 60,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10616343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yin/pseuds/Yin
Summary: Having escaped from a cruel experiment, Simmons figured if he kept a low profile he'd be okay....At least that would have been the plan had a bunch of Specials not asked for his help in cleaning up Chorus.Joining this group of wannabe superheroes wasn't something he planned on, but it seems like idiots have a way of finding each other.





	1. Prologue: No Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Richard “Dick” Simmons hurried through the crowded streets of Blood Gulch, the name given to the city of Chorus’ “poorest” area.  Blood Gulch certainly wasn’t the fanciest neighborhood, but the place suited his current needs just fine.

It was easy to avoid eye contact and awkward conversation when a person was just hiding as one in a crowd.  Well, once he got past the nerve-wracking moment when he left his apartment anyway.  Truth be told, he still felt a surge of anxiety being out in the open, an inner panic at being surrounded by other people.

The redhead was currently trying his hardest to ignore the growing chill in the air, as well as his bones and metallic parts, due to the fine rainy mist settling over everything in sight.  Simmons shivered, grateful for the fact that he was wearing a loose-fitting maroon hoodie.  He pulled the material over his upper body tightly for added warmth.

It was the end of the day for most people, including himself.  Right now, Simmons was on his way to his favorite convenience store to grab something to eat.  It was an act that he forced himself to partake in every day, even though being amongst people still made him incredibly nervous.

He was overly-cautious and self-conscious about how he must appear to others, even though he logically knew that the synthetic skin covering the metal plating on his face made it hard to notice that anything was off there.  Unless someone looked at him directly for a lengthy period of time, that is.  Simmons tried very hard to avoid being stuck in that situation, having developed a habit of darting from place to place like a frightened rabbit.

The convenience store was located on the cusp of the imaginary border between Blood Gulch and Rat’s Nest, the _other_ poor district of Chorus.  Though Simmons had been born in the more “well-to-do” district of Armonia, this area of the city was easier to lose oneself in should one have a reason or need to do so.

That’s why Simmons had been making something of a “home” for himself here ever since he had managed to escape from the lab in Valhalla.  Due to the lesser focus on maintaining security that took place here, this area of Chorus was the perfect place for Specials to try to hide undetected in.  Simmons just used that common knowledge to his own personal advantage.

A tan car sped by, splashing water from a puddle on the street.  The action nearly threatened to drench Simmons.  He tensed, nervous when he glanced up at the offending vehicle and noticed that it was near a black van that looked eerily familiar to the one that had grabbed him back in Armonia.

 _“It’s not the same car.  You have to stop doing this to yourself!”_ Simmons thought, shaking his head as he desperately tried to ignore the increased pumping of the gear that had replaced his heart.

Still, with adrenaline coursing through his body, the lanky man quickened his pace.  With the ever-growing distance between himself and the offending vehicle, he managed to quell his panic down significantly.

Ever since the Specials group known as Freelancer had dissipated, Simmons had heard some troubling rumors that the “collecting” of Specials from the lower income regions had started to increase.  But, he had been trying for his own peace of mind to equate it to just your typical gossip and nothing more.  After all, surely it would be covered more on the news if that was _actually_ the case, right?

Lost in his own thoughts, Simmons _finally_ reached the familiar safe haven of the convenience store.  Like clockwork, the redhead went inside and immediately made his way over to the store’s premade dinners.  Not even glancing at the packages, he grabbed one before making his way over to the cashier.

The woman behind the counter appeared to be in her late middle ages with graying hair.  Considering how often Simmons came to the store, the clerk was a familiar face by this point.  She even shot him a tired smile as she rang up his transaction.

“You could stand for a few home-cooked meals, you know.” She informed him gently in way of trying to start conversation.

Simmons couldn’t help but smile awkwardly at her concern, “I…I’m fine…” he tried saying reassuringly just as the commercials on the television terminal hanging overhead switched off and a news program kicked into full gear.

 _“…Despite how today marks the five-year anniversary of the destruction of the Freelancers, the government is still debating the legality of a possible registry for the Specials in our midst.”_ A female reporter evidently named Dylan Andrews stated on the screen.

Simmons swallowed nervously, his attention turning to the report.  He tried not to make the anxiety that had just knotted up in his stomach obvious on his face.  Luckily, he was so pale naturally he doubted his complexion had blanched enough to be apparent.

 _“As most of our viewers are undoubtedly aware, due to the potential for damage that so many Specials bring to the table, an ongoing debate has lingered on ways to keep them in check—the supposed registry being one such avenue.”_ The reporter, Dylan, continued, _“Though certain influential people, such as Chairman Malcolm Hargrove,”_ a picture of a wizened old man appeared in a graphics box over the reporter’s shoulder, _“Of Charon Industries, continue to voice concern that doing so could crush their personal liberties.”_

“Isn’t that guy just saying that because Charon is in charge of security for Chorus now?” A customer who had been apathetically picking his nose, much to Simmons’ inward disgust, asked, “Specials committing crimes willy-nilly keeps them in goddamn business.”

The woman behind the counter decided to voice her opinion just then even though no one was soliciting for it, “Personally, I think that even the Freelancers did more harm than good with all of the damage that _we_ had to pay for.  Who the hell else was going to pick up after their fights?” She stated rather emphatically before shrugging her shoulders, “Having some way to control or know about Specials beforehand just seems like good old fucking common sense to me.”

Simmons remained tensely silent as the cashier lady and nose picker continued their conversation, thanking the woman with a quick nod of his head for his change and receipt before hurriedly leaving the store.  He was suddenly immensely grateful for the gloves and long sleeves he wore to cover up his cybernetic arm and hand.

Personally, he wasn’t sure _what_ exactly to make of the whole Specials debate.  Particularly since, on a rather technical level, he probably wouldn’t even count as one despite what some might say on the subject.  Not to mention that he was fairly certain that the people who had kidnapped him weren’t Specials either, so he knew just how capable regular humans were when it came to committing crimes too.

Simmons shook his head, not really wanting to dwell on that particular topic of debate for too long in order to avoid another string of flashback-induced nightmares.  Instead, he focused on climbing the stairs to his Blood Gulch apartment so that he could finally force himself to eat a little something.

His apartment was a one-room affair that could be considered drab and sad even by his own personal standards.  But, it had been all he could get on a very limited budget.  Until he made a steadier income doing low-key tech repairs to avoid catching anyone’s eyes, this shitty apartment was home.

Simmons absent-mindedly turned his computer on as he got ready to eat his rather bland and tasteless dinner, frowning when the news report that popped up just as his browser opened was yet _another_ discussion on the Specials registry.

…His father’s name was listed on the news article as a proponent of it.

 _That_ gave him pause.  Simmons stared dumbfounded at the familiar name staring back at him.  The letters were so emotionally unavailable that it was as if his actual father were in the room with him now.

The maroon hoodie wearing man distantly wondered if his parents even missed him.  His mother?  Maybe.  But, his father?  He was probably just happy that his useless son was not around anymore to embarrass him.  He probably hadn’t even bothered searching for Simmons when he had been held captive for months.

Simmons hastily wiped the sudden tears from his eyes, turning to put the half-eaten convenience store dinner plate in the apartment’s small sink for later cleaning.

“ _Fucking finally!_ ”

Simmons spun around at the unfamiliar voice suddenly exclaiming expletives in his apartment.

To say he was shocked to see the translucent form of a goateed man wreathed in cobalt blue energy standing in the middle of his room was an understatement.  It even hurt slightly to stare at the figure directly with his cybernetic eye, which was suddenly throwing statistics in his face that made _no_ fucking sense.  Even if the man was a Special, his cybernetic eye didn’t normally react like _this_.  What the hell was going on and who the fuck was this guy?

“Hey!  Are you Richard Simmons?” The strange man asked the dumbfounded redhead, snickering slightly when he added, “ _Dick_?”

Oh, like he hadn’t heard that one before from every bully ever.  Simmons couldn’t help but roll his eyes at _that_ old joke.  So, whoever this projected guy was, he was an asshole with a middle schooler’s sense of humor.  Fucking great.  To avoid freaking out even more, Simmons simply nodded his head in response to the newcomer’s question.

“Good.” The man, who at closer inspection with Simmons’ regular human eye appeared to be around his own age, grinned, “I have a damned good proposition for you, if I do so say so myself.  And, believe me, I fucking do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is enjoying Season 15 so far? I can’t wait to see what will happen next in it! :)
> 
> So, in light of Season 15, I am bringing to you the start of a new story. I know, I know! I hate myself because evidently having four ongoing stories all at once seems like a good idea all of a sudden. XD But, this idea for a Superhero AU just wouldn’t get out of my head, so I had to write it out. Truthfully, I blame my sister who has me watching all of those _Arrow_ -verse shows. :)
> 
> I will probably be posting the first chapter of this story next just to get more into the story-verse before going into my regular posting schedule again for all of my other stories ( _Remnants_ , _When We Were Soldiers_ and _Shiny Things_ ).
> 
> At any rate, I hope you enjoyed this small prologue and hopefully the rest of the story will make for an enjoyable read too! :D


	2. Chapter One: The Life and Times of Richard "Dick" Simmons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Richard “Dick” Simmons remained standing in place as he looked up at an apparently rundown building, the address of which the mysterious Church had given him.  While a million questions should have been going through his mind, currently Simmons was seriously starting to question all of the recent life choices that had brought him to the stranger’s abode.

For starters, this area was one of the more dangerous in all of Blood Gulch.  The redhead had avoided it in the past just based on reputation alone.  It didn’t help that Simmons was _also_ following instructions from someone he didn’t even know the first thing about.  Not to mention the stranger had inexplicably materialized as some sort of digital _projection_ in his apartment.

_But_ , Simmons reminded himself for what was the umpteenth time in order to quell the growing unease settling in the pit of his stomach, Church _had_ promised him answers.  Church had told him that if he came, he’d let Simmons know how he had found him.  For someone trying to stay in hiding for self-preservation like Simmons, that was pretty fucking important.  Truthfully, Simmons was often times far too inquisitive for his own good.  He couldn’t really say no, even though a part of him really wanted to.

Still, now that he was here, Simmons was starting to let his nerves get the better of him.  Maybe whatever Church had to say wasn’t worth whatever potential risk was involved here.  Maybe he should just go back before something bad could happen.  The lanky man was about to take a tentative step backwards when…

_“Dude, are you gonna go in or what?”_

Simmons started at the unknown voice coming from behind him.  Like a deer caught in a headlight, he turned around wide-eyed to find a dark-skinned man around his own age with a tight-fitting teal t-shirt standing there.  The stranger looked both bored and amused all at once.

“Er…” Simmons froze in indecision just then, unsure of how to respond or what to do.  It had been a long time since he had ventured out of his neighborhood, and even longer since he had contact with so many unfamiliar people at once.

The man let out what could only be described as an exasperated sigh, “Let me guess.  Church invited you here but didn’t explain a damn thing about _why_ , huh?”

Simmons blinked in surprise at the newcomer’s accurate assessment, “H—how did you…?”

The teal-wearing man raised a black eyebrow as if suggesting that the answer to Simmons’ question was obvious, “He did the same thing to me, dude.  He thinks being vague on purpose is cool or some shit.  Fucking annoying is what it really is.”

“Oh.” Simmons felt as though he was seriously failing at this conversation.  He was so fucking out of practice with communication.

Perhaps the other man felt pity for the poor cyborg, as he reached out and awkwardly gave his shoulder a reassuring pat.

“I’m Lavernius Tucker, by the way.” He said in greeting, “And I’m _sort-of_ friends with Church.” He lowered his voice slightly, “Guy might be a bit of an asshole, but whatever he called us here for?  It’s probably just something dumb.  I wouldn’t stress about it.”

Simmons nodded his head in pretend understanding, “R—right.”

Still, regardless of Tucker’s reassurances, Church had somehow _known_ about him.  That alone made Simmons nervous as shit.

“Best not to keep Church waiting though.” Tucker informed Simmons as he made his way past the lanky cyborg and towards the nondescript double doors, “Dude gets cranky as shit.”

Simmons swallowed nervously as he quickly followed Tucker inside.  As the doors closed behind him, the maroon-wearing man couldn’t help but feel his jaw hang open slightly at what was actually inside the location.

For a building that had looked seemingly dilapidated and boarded up on the outside, the interior was surprisingly pristine and filled to the brim with all sorts of tech.  The high-end equipment caused the readings from his red cybernetic eye to go off the charts and he felt his mouth actually start to salivate.  He really was a fucking nerd about tech.

It actually took Simmons a few moments to realize that there were also quite a few more people standing around in what seemed to be some sort of large foyer right off the entrance to the building.

“Hey, guys!” A dirty blond dressed entirely in pink waved at Simmons and Tucker cheerfully from across the space from where he had been conversing with a bespectacled brown-haired man in purple.

The purple-wearing man smiled gently, “So you two were invited as well?”

“Obviamente.” _{“Obviously.”}_

An electronic voice from another corner of the foyer spoke up.  Simmons couldn’t help but openly gape at what appeared to be a brown-armored, Spanish-speaking robot.

The older man dressed in red standing next to the robot snorted at the question that had been poised by the purple-wearing man, as though the answer should have been obvious.  The red-wearing man had a gruff leader-like demeanor about him, with arms crossed over his chest and a guarded look in his brown eyes.

“Another new friend!” A blond-haired young man in blue was practically jumping up and down on the balls of his feet in the middle of the foyer at the sight of the two newcomers, “And Tucker too.  Hey, Tucker.” He stated less-than-enthusiastically.

“Shit.” Tucker swore under his breath at the sight of his obvious acquaintance, “He invited _you_ too.”

“Jealousy is not a good look on you, Tucker.” The blond intoned in an almost sing-song voice as the teal-wearing Tucker only rolled his eyes in response.

In the confusion, the door that opened behind the cyborg and Tucker would have gone completely unnoticed by Simmons save for the bored voice that tickled the back of his neck not a second later.

_“You going to move anytime soon, or what?”_

Simmons blinked, not realizing until just then that he had been pretty much standing in the doorway in case he needed to make a speedy escape.  He spun around to mutter a quick apology, only to be surprised by the appearance of _two_ more people behind him.

The first was an apathetic-looking, heavyset man with tan skin and a loose-fitting orange shirt on.  His gaze seemed to go right through Simmons and everyone else, as if he was lazily assessing everything in the room and yet not really giving a shit about any of it.

The second was a teenaged girl dressed in a clashing yellow tank top-and-jeans combo.  Given her appearance, she seemed to be related to the tan-skinned man.  However, instead of looking bored like her relative, the girl’s dark eyes glanced around the place with interest.

The duo moved past Simmons and into the foyer proper alongside Tucker, leaving Simmons still unsure of how to react.

_“Is that everyone?”_ Church’s voice boomed down from the next floor up.

Suddenly, a petite woman with brown hair appeared floating in the middle of the foyer.  Even without the haywire readings from his cybernetic eye again, Simmons would have been able to tell that she was another hologram due to how translucent she was.

The holographic woman smiled politely around the room, “I believe so, Church.”

_“Great.”_ There was a bit of a commotion heard upstairs before a _very_ real, flesh-and-blood Church suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs.  “Hey, guys,” he greeted with fake casualness, “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much beyond wondering why the fuck you called us here, dude.” Tucker harrumphed under his breath.

There were quite a few nods of agreement around the room, and Church evidently figured that was his cue to get right down to business.  “I’ve contacted everyone here because you’re either known Specials or…” And here, Church’s dark eyes landed on first the armored robot and then on Simmons, “Or Specials-adjacent.”

Simmons started, gripping his cybernetic arm tightly with his real one underneath his maroon hoodie in a vain attempt at self-reassurance.  He was unsure how he felt about one of the things he had tried so hard to conceal being so readily known, “How—how did you…?”

“That would be due to me.” A calm, get-down-to-business voice intoned from the stairs that Church had only just recently descended.  A blond-haired woman dressed entirely in black camo stood there, arms crossed over her chest as she stared impassively down at the assembled group.

“This is Tex.” Church said in way of introduction, “She’s my gir—“

“That part really isn’t important now.” Tex interrupted Church, expertly ignoring the face he pulled in her direction, “What _is_ important for them to know is that you and I had access to all sorts of classified information on Specials due to our past affiliations.”

The heavyset man in orange raised an eyebrow slightly at her words, “And just _how_ is that?” He questioned in a lazy drawl.

The blonde smirked, “Oh, _Freelancer_ had files going way back on Specials in Chorus.”

An excited squeal emanated from the pink-wearing dirty blond in their midst, “Oh, wow!  You guys were connected to _the_ Freelancers?”

Tex seemed more amused by the question than anything else, “You could say that.” She informed him before nodding her head slightly, “Lucky for you, I pilfered that data when we left the group.”

The brown-haired man in purple raised his hand politely, “Why would that be lucky for us?”

“If Church and I hadn’t done that, you’d all be in deep shit by now given the groups that got a hold of the rest of Freelancer’s intel after their fall.” Tex informed them cryptically, as if that would ease their concerns.

Simmons could barely believe what he had just heard and he was sure that his mouth was just hanging open stupidly.  Freelancer had data on him and hadn’t bothered rescuing him?  He’d been captive for months, and then he had been terrified and in hiding!  Weren’t they supposed to be the fucking _good_ guys?

Church seemed to read his mind, “Trust me, Freelancer had its share of dark shit too.” He stated glumly.

“As informative as this has been,” the older man suddenly spoke up in a gruff voice, “Are we about close to getting to a point here, son?”

“Oh, como si tuvieras algo mejor que hacer.” _{“Oh, like you have anything better to do.”}_

Church coughed and straightened upright, glancing at everyone in the foyer.

“Frank DuFresne, also called Doc.” He stated without preamble, gesturing towards the man dressed in purple, “Power negation.”  He turned to the young man in pink next, “Franklin Delano Donut.  Force field manipulation.”

“They’re great for plugging in holes!”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” Church muttered before turning his attention to the blond in blue, “Michael J. Caboose.  Luck.”

“Yeah, it comes in handy for finding things.  Not for breaking them.  That’s never my fault.”

Church and Tucker both rolled their eyes, “Lavernius Tucker.  Energy generation.”

“ _Dude_ , fucking get on with it!” Tucker groaned from his spot near Simmons.

Church pointedly ignored him, “Richard “Dick,”” here the asshole smirked again, “Simmons.  Cyborg.”

“Really?” The teenaged girl spoke up, squinting her eyes at the redhead, “Seems like a nerd to me.”

“Same difference.” Her possible relative muttered under his breath.

Simmons shrank in on himself, deciding then and there that he hated them both.  Jerks.

“Dexter Grif.  Emotional manipulation.” Church went to the two of them next, starting with the man before going to the sister, “Kaikaina Grif.  Vertigo inducement.”

“Though I can make you sick in the _good_ way too.” The girl, Kaikaina, wriggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, yeah…” Church looked ready to move on until her words caught up to him, “Wait, what?”

“Goddamn it, Kai!” Grif looked as though he were about to throttle her.

Simmons couldn’t help but smirk a little at the exchange, returning the glare Dexter Grif sent his way.

“Moving on…” Church murmured, clearly frustrated by the lack of respect he was currently getting.

“Fucking _finally_.”

“Shove it, Tucker!” Church turned to the robot, “Lopez.  Robot.”

“Esto está resultando ser una verdadera reunión de las mentes.”  _{“This is turning out to be a true meeting of the minds.”}_

Clearly wanting to move the event along, and more than likely not at all fluent in Spanish, Church glanced at the man standing next to Lopez, “Sarge.  _Sarge_?  That can’t be your full name, right?  The fucking files weren’t updated on you.”

“Legally changed it when I was old enough to sign the papers, son.” _Sarge_ puffed out his chest proudly.

Church raised a dark eyebrow, “Okay.  That’s not crazy at all.  Sarge.  Missile generation.”

“And inventor of good ol’ Lopez here!” The older man in red slapped the robot’s shoulder jovially, causing a metallic clang to fill the room.

“Por lo que le pregunto "por qué" todos los días.”  _{“For which I ask "why" every day.”}_

Lopez seemed far from impressed from Sarge’s declaration, although Simmons was far from fluent in Spanish himself.

“This is my friend, Sheila.” Church continued, gesturing to the hologram of the brown-haired woman with the patient smile, “She’s what you’d probably call a holographic projection.”

“I see to this facility’s daily maintenance, among other things.” Sheila further explained.

“How…?” Simmons was beyond curious by this point, totally forgetting that his nerves were almost shot.

“Whoa.  Save the nerd questions for later.” Church cut him off.

“Told you.” Kaikaina muttered to Grif under her breath.

Simmons shot both siblings a withering glare that was, infuriatingly enough, met with a smirk and a stuck-out tongue.

“You guys already know my _amazing_ self.” Church continued, “I’m Leonard Church.  Digital form.”

“Which totally explains why his only real friend is a computer program.”

“Shove it, Tucker!” Church gave the teal-wearing man the finger.

“…And me!  I’m Church’s best friend too!”

Church groaned at the exclamation thrown into the air, “You can shove it too, Caboose.” Church finally glanced over at Tex, “And Tex’s specialty is tactile telekinesis.”

The blonde woman simply smirked at her introduction, clearly feeling no need to add any more information.  Everyone else glanced at one another, unsure of what to say or do now that they had all been introduced.

“Fascinating.” Grif finally spoke up dryly not a second later, “But is there a _point_ to all of this, or…?”

Church smirked, as though he had been waiting for someone to ask that very question all along, “I’ve been thinking, given the anxiety in the city regarding Specials now, that there needs to be a team to help monitor things.”

There was silence following Church’s admission as they all processed his words.

It was broken a few moments later by Tucker.  “You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me.” He muttered under his breath.

Church simply stared at Tucker with a serious look plastered on his face, clearly not joking at all.

“That in _no way_ is a good idea, asshole,” the dark-skinned man continued, “Especially given what happened the _last_ time there was a team of Specials out there doing “ _good_ ” in the world.”

Right.  The Freelancers didn’t exactly meet a great end, did they?  Simmons shivered at the reminder.

Church deflated a bit at the reminder himself, “I _know_ , Tucker.” He told him stubbornly a minute later, “But this time will be different because we won’t be led by some power-hungry asshole.”

“What, so it would be _you_ instead?” Tucker scoffed at the notion, “Like that would be any better.  We’d just be getting rid of the “ _power-hungry_ ” part.  You’re still an asshole.”

“You would know what an asshole is from looking in the mirror, Tucker!”

The two started to argue heavily, while the others glanced around debating on what to do while Tex and Sheila seemed content to just observe.  Church and Tucker’s fight became background noise to the others’ musings.  Extremely loud background noise.

“Sounds promising.” Sarge laughed to himself, turning to the robot next to him, “What do you think, Lopez?”

“Al igual que importa lo que digo cuando te has decidido.”  _{“Like it matters what I say when you've made up your mind.”}_

“I will help Church.  That way I can prove we are the best of friends!” Caboose informed Donut and Doc happily.

“It…it seems like it could be a good idea.” The pink-wearing Donut tapped his chin thoughtfully, “What do you think, Doc?”

“I…I don’t know...” Doc seemed rather on the fence about the subject, touching his glasses in a nervous gesture.

“As long as I have fun I don’t fucking care what I’m doing!” Kaikaina exclaimed, “Or _who_.”

“Yeah, not happening.” Grif informed her emphatically, eyes lazily watching the room around them.

“Oh, you suck!”

Simmons wasn’t sure _what_ to think about Church’s proposal, especially considering that the whole concept would make the “ _staying off the radar_ ” plan he had arranged for the rest of his life a whole lot harder.

Church frowned and held up his hand to cut Tucker off mid-rant, “Hey, I know it’s not an easy decision, okay?” He told Tucker and the others, “Which is why I’m giving everyone a few days to think on it.”

“Mighty generous of you.” Tucker muttered sarcastically under his breath as he made his way towards the door without looking back, “But you know what?  Fine, I’ll fucking think on it.”

“Me too.” Doc assured Church as he moved towards the exit, the others all starting to follow suit.

Simmons, on the other hand, was simply grateful for the chance to leave the suddenly oppressive atmosphere and get a breath of fresh air.  He didn’t even say a word to Church as he walked out the door.  He got to the corner of the street, and took in a deep gulp—filling up whatever machine was in place of his lungs now as he did so.

The cyborg was honestly surprised when _Dexter Grif_ of all people joined him not a second later, the chubby man’s dark eyes taking in the empty street and not looking at the maroon-wearing man at all. 

“This whole thing is bullshit, huh?” Grif spoke out loud, really more to himself than to Simmons.

“Er…” Simmons’ brain oh-so-eloquently tried to think of a response, but he quickly remembered that he failed at conversation.

Grif ignored him to pull a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, lighting one up and bringing it to his mouth as the redhead watched.

Simmons watched Grif, his brain finally latching on to something to say, “…You know those aren’t good for you, right?”

He wanted to kick himself as Grif stared at him blankly for a few tense minutes.  Simmons was pretty sure his nagging wasn’t going to earn him Cool Points anytime soon.  …Not that he ever really had Cool Points to begin with.

So, naturally, Simmons was totally caught off-guard when Grif suddenly asked: “Are you hungry?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a fun little homage to comic books, each chapter title for _Specials_ is going to be a reference to either a title of a graphic novel or something to do with comics in general. A kudos to you if you catch all of the references! :)
> 
> So, this chapter introduced most of the Reds and Blues as well as revealed why Church suddenly showed up like he did in the prologue. I was trying to come up with a way to quickly introduce everyone’s abilities, so I hope it wasn’t rushed! I might still do a Character Power List in a future chapter’s Author’s Note.
> 
> Next chapter: Grif and Simmons get something to eat and have their first talk together; Tex and Church talk about the possibility of a new team; Tucker ends up meeting a certain blond Freelancer in passing as he reunites with Junior; and we learn a bit about Donut’s decision in regards to said team too! I hope it will be an entertaining read, if nothing else. :D
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this new story of mine! :)


	3. Chapter Two: Face to Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Leonard Church let out a frustrated groan the second that the “headquarters”’ doors closed.  Tex turned to him with mild amusement dancing in her eyes before saying what he was also thinking out loud: “Well, _that_ could have gone better.”

  
It was just Tex, Church, and Caboose in the foyer now.  Sheila had excused herself to some other part of the building with a polite dip of her bunned, transparent head seconds earlier.  So, if Church wanted to get technical as shit, he would have counted her as “being in the vicinity” only.

  
“How come so many of the Specials in the Freelancer database had to be stubborn assholes?” Church asked no one in particular, groaning in frustration.

  
Tex raised an eyebrow, “Like you’re one to talk?” She asked pointedly, amusement at his obvious misery evident in her tone.

  
“Right back at you, bitch.”

  
The smirks that they gave one another held an odd sort of fondness.  Although, if anyone would have commented on that moment, they’d both brush it off as nothing.

  
From where he had taken to sitting on the ground, Caboose raised his hand, “Oh, oh!  Am I one too, Church?”

  
Church rolled his eyes at the blue-wearing man’s question, “Especially you, Caboose.”

  
“I love being included.” Caboose hummed contentedly at Church’s comment, “I like me.”

  
Church couldn’t help groaning once more, refusing to continue the conversation anymore.

  
The blonde woman watching the exchange smiled thinly, “At least you have one recruit already.”

  
“Shut up.” Church sighed, putting a hand to his head in an exasperated fashion, “Okay, okay.  I can _maybe_ understand some of them being fucking wary given their backgrounds, but _Tucker_?”

  
Tex raised an eyebrow rather incredulously in Church’s direction, “Can you really blame Tucker, or any of them, for being hesitant?” She asked him seriously, “After all, Tucker has a _son_ he has to be worried about.  It’s not like he wasn’t right when he said that what happened with Freelancer has made things harder on all of us.”

  
Church frowned, as if he really needed _Agent Texas_ of all people reminding him about Freelancer and how they had made life craptacular for a shitload of individuals.

  
“I know, but it’s going to get even harder with Charon acting as they are.” He finally mumbled out of frustration, watching Caboose out of the corner of his eye.

  
The blond was clearly not following most of their conversation, having a pretty vacant “checked out” look on his face as he stared up at Church and Tex.  …What else was new?

  
Tex frowned at the mention of the company’s name that had been at the forefront of both of their minds recently.  “Have you heard anything recently from Carolina?” She asked, suddenly changing the subject.

  
“No, not in a while.” Church sighed, looking up at the ceiling high above them, “That’s gotten me slightly worried too, though I know she can take care of herself.  Hell, I’m kind of more worried about the people she’s running across.”

  
“Hmm.” Tex said nothing to the dark-haired man’s comment, instead choosing to muse out loud, “How do you think she’d feel about your plan to form a new team?”

Church laughed derisively, “Knowing her?  She’d totally fucking hate it.”

  
There was a tentative, almost hesitant knock on the side of the now open doorway, and all three people turned to see Donut standing there.  The pink-wearing man appeared both unsure and determined all at once.

  
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Donut began, “But, actually?  I don’t need to wait a few days to give you my answer.”

  
Church and Tex exchanged a puzzled look with each other before turning back to Donut, and Church couldn’t help but ask the question on the tip of his tongue: “You don’t?”

  
Donut nodded his head and stepped inside the foyer proper, his stance becoming more confident as he did so.

  
“I want to do my part to help keep this city safe.” He informed them emphatically, “My district had been hit hard before—really nailed.  A group of Freelancers helped to save it.” The young man actually _saluted_ at the memory, “I think…I think it would be an honor to try to live up to their legacy.  Imagine the stirring musicals it would inspire!”

  
“Oh boy, we can be friends now!” Caboose clamored happily, racing up to Donut and patting him on the back, “This is so exciting!”

  
Tex turned around to smirk at Church, “Well, it looks like you’ve got your first real recruit now,” she noted wryly, “Against all rhyme and reason.”

  
Church couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her words, “Oh, shut up.”

  
*****

  
“Stupid fucking Church!  Pulling this bullshit…!” Lavernius Tucker mumbled under his breath as he headed home towards his apartment in Blood Gulch, passersby glancing warily in his direction.

  
It was just so fucking unbelievable to him that Church would even _want_ to get back into the world of Specials’ team-ups, especially considering how he’d barely gotten out of trouble due to the Freelancer implosion.  Honestly, that was only thanks to Tex bailing Church’s ass out.

  
Tucker _still_ remembered coming across Church and Tex in the rain-soaked streets following that cluster-fuck.  The dark-skinned man had rather stupidly decided back then, out of the goodness of his fucking heart no less, to offer them a place to hide out at that night since Junior had been sleeping over as a friend’s house.

  
…That horrible lack of judgment had basically been when Tucker’s life had become inexplicably entwined with Church’s bullshit.

  
Ever since then, he’d had to deal with crazy Freelancer antics from Tex and Church’s sister Carolina whenever she showed up.  And don’t even get him started on when Caboose had started following Church around like a little lost puppy!  Tucker had never gotten the full story on just _how_ that occurred, and, quite frankly, he didn’t really care enough to want to get it.

  
All the while, he had tried to keep his son squarely _out_ of their bullshit.  Tucker sighed.  It was bad enough for the young kid that his single dad happened to be a Special.  He really didn’t want Junior getting caught up in a whole lot of other crap on top of that.

  
It started to rain when Tucker was just about ten steps away from his apartment building, and he let out another long-suffering sigh.  _…Fucking perfect._

  
He raced the last few steps up to the familiar building, and made his way up the flights of stairs to the fourth level, once again grateful that the elderly woman next door had offered to watch Junior at the last second since his usual babysitter, Katie Jensen, had been busy.  Stupid Church and his cryptic-as-fuck penchant for messages!

  
When Tucker entered the fourth floor proper from the stairwell, he was surprised to see a shitload of boxes in the hallway in front of him.  Tucker’s eyes fell on a blond-haired man who appeared only a few years older than him in gray and yellow carrying one of the boxes into the recently vacated apartment across the hall from his own.

  
Huh.  So, it hadn’t taken them that long to get the place rented.  Of course, with the shitty neighborhood being what it is, it probably didn’t hurt that the rental prices were cheap as fuck.  Someone like Tucker wouldn’t have been able to afford it otherwise.

  
“What’s up?” Tucker gave a half, sort-of greeting that his new neighbor only returned with a barely perceptible nod of his head before opening the door to his own place after sidestepping some of the boxes littering the corridor.

Okay, so the new guy wasn’t a chatterbox.  Tucker wasn’t sure what to make of him just yet, but he definitely got the impression blondie wasn’t the social type.

He was just about to shut the door when a distinct smell of recently baked cookies wafted out of Tucker’s apartment.  Suddenly, a little boy came bounding energetically down the small apartment’s corridor to greet him.

  
 Tucker couldn’t help laughing at Junior’s enthusiasm before he bent down and scooped the boy up into a tight embrace.  “Hey, kiddo,” He greeted conversationally, “Are those cookies I smell?”

  
Junior nodded, “I helped make them!” He shouted eagerly, “Mrs. O said we could have one before dinner.”

  
“Did she now?  A lady after my own heart.” Tucker joked back.

  
There must still have been a lingering hesitation in his brown eyes from before, because Junior was looking at Tucker in mild concern, “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

  
Tucker forced a laugh out again to reassure his incredibly perceptive kid and hugged him tighter, “Oh, nothing too much.  Your Uncle Church is just being his usual dumbass self.”

  
Junior nodded like his father’s comment made perfect sense and, let’s face it, it totally fucking _did_.  His son’s action amused Tucker so much that he didn’t notice the blond-haired new neighbor stiffen slightly at Church’s name just then from the hallway.  Nor did Tucker notice when the stranger’s gray eyes peered over a large box at the father and son questioningly.

  
Tucker put a squirming Junior down on the ground, “Let’s go get those cookies, okay?”

  
Junior grinned up at him and nodded, “Okay!”

  
Tucker watched him race back towards the kitchen to no doubt help Mrs. O, smiling.  He figured he would just tell Church off again and say no tomorrow.

  
Without really glancing back, he shut his apartment’s door and the new neighbor disappeared from view.

  
*****

  
Richard “Dick” Simmons wasn’t sure what had compelled him to do so, but he found himself following Dexter Grif to a rather shabby-looking diner just a few blocks from where the meeting with Church and the others had been.

  
Despite how he usually didn’t have much of an appetite, right now he suddenly found himself completely ravenous at the prospect of food.  Which was really bizarre since it was obvious that the diner was the kind of establishment where you _knew_ the food’s grease content was out of control, and normally that would have freaked him out too much to actually eat there.

  
The door to the place had a bell on it that chimed softly to alert the staff to new patrons and, sure enough, a waitress in pastel blue suddenly appeared to hand them laminated menus.  With a smile, she told them to _“have a seat anywhere.”_

  
After they had made their way over to a corner booth and Simmons began perusing the menu—he couldn’t help looking up to see Grif _smirking_ over at him.

  
“You can thank me for the suggestion later.” The chubby man noted, “It looks like you could use a decent meal.”

  
Simmons blinked for a moment as the meaning behind Grif’s words slowly solidified in his brain.  The sudden feeling of starving that he’d only recently had…

  
He gasped, completely flabbergasted, “You used your power on me!”

  
Grif shrugged as if it was no big deal, “I just didn’t feel like eating alone.”

  
“Th—that’s beside the point…!” Simmons stammered out just as the waitress returned to get their orders.

  
Grif ordered about three different, high-calorie meals…to which Simmons couldn’t help but make a face at.  Though said face was soon matched by the one on Grif’s features when Simmons ordered a Veggie Burger.

  
It didn’t take long at all for the food to arrive, and Simmons found that he really was hungry in an indignant sort of way.  So, he dived right in with an agitated huff.

  
Grif observed him with mild amusement on his tanned features, “I can do a whole lot more than just make someone hungry, you know.”

  
Despite himself, Simmons was rather curious at the admission, “Like what?” He couldn’t help but inquire, although he felt like he’d regret asking that question later.

  
Grif just smirked before gesturing towards the redhead and changing subjects, “What about you?  What can you do with your fancy robot get-up?”

  
Simmons became flustered at the sudden attention put on him and stopped eating, playing with the fries on his plate instead.

  
“Don’t tell me you have a fax machine for an ass.” Grif joked, obviously amused that he’d hit a nerve.

  
Simmons’ face turned red at the mental image the apathetic man’s comment produced, “What?  No!”

  
“So, what can you do then?” Grif asked again, with a tone that almost sounded like he didn’t really give a fuck.

  
Simmons frowned, having to think about the question a bit.  He had avoided really delving too much into his capabilities before, but…

  
“I…am slightly stronger in my artificial limbs.” He mumbled, “And I can use them to hack things…or even fire an energy ray.  My cybernetic eye sees different statuses and the like for things too.”

  
Grif whistled in mock appreciation, “Must be heaven for a nerd like you.”

  
Simmons frowned, saying nothing in response.  His plate of food was suddenly incredibly interesting.  “What…what are you going to do?” He finally worked up the courage to ask the relative stranger across from him, “About Church’s idea, I mean.”

  
It was Grif’s turn to frown, “I’m honestly not sure yet.” He admitted at length, “It doesn’t really seem like it would fit into my usual routine.”

  
“What do you mean?” Simmons asked, his natural curiosity getting the better of him once again.

  
Grif smirked once more, “Let’s just say that I’ve been using my special talents to make a comfortable living for myself and Kai.”

  
Simmons wasn’t quite sure what Grif meant by that.  He was about to question the orange-wearing man further when Grif’s phone, which had been resting on the table, suddenly lighted up with a text.  One glance towards the cell phone’s screen told Simmons the message was from one Kaikaina Grif.

  
Grif picked up the phone disinterestedly before his eyes darkened momentarily and he swore, “Fuck.  Well, apparently Kai thinks the whole thing could be fun enough to give it a whirl.” He announced, shaking his head with a sigh, “Damn brat.”

  
Simmons couldn’t help but jump to the absent girl’s defense despite the fact that there was no venom behind Grif’s voice, “W—well, that’s kind of admirable of her!  Don’t you think?” He tried reasoning.

  
Grif shot him an even look, “ _Admirable_ doesn’t mean much.  If you ask me, it just means _stupid_.”

  
Simmons wanted desperately to argue with Grif, and opened his mouth to do just that when Grif cut him off with another exasperated sigh.

  
“So, what are you going to do about this whole _team_ idea?” He asked Simmons, “It looks like I’m going to be forced into helping at least for a little while.  Kai can’t embarrass the family.”

  
Simmons frowned at the question, still rather unsure of the answer himself.

  
For whatever reason, Grif chose not to press him anymore and they continued to eat together in a surprisingly companionable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small chapter update to get the ball rolling. Next one will be a bit longer as Simmons mulls more over whether or not to just join the team, and Church gets quite the surprise. Also, Church and Tucker both talk and are interrupted by a certain newly introduced Freelancer, and Simmons and Grif have another chat. Things are progressing at a steady pace! :)
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this story! :D


	4. Chapter Three: Welcome to the Reds and Blues, Simmons...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Richard “Dick” Simmons left the diner in mulling, brooding silence.  He hadn’t wanted to stay much longer once he had finished the meal that was now resting heavily in the pit of his stomach, especially after Grif made a snide joke about having to _“walk the nerd home.”_

  
The redhead would show that orange-wearing asshole that he could get home on his own, even in the current downpour!  …Honestly, why had the chubby man even decided to bring Simmons along to the restaurant if he was just going to make fun of him the entire time?  Couldn’t Grif tell Simmons was possibly sensitive, but in a totally manly way?  The cyborg’s practically nonexistent self-esteem could only handle so much.

  
Simmons thought about the way their conversation had trailed off towards the end of the meal after he had been asked what his plans were regarding Church’s team.  The pale-skinned man sighed, realizing he had a lot to think about beyond how much of a jackass Dexter Grif could be.

  
A part of Simmons really _did_ think that what Church was trying to do was admirable and, that part of him wanted to help if he could.  But, the other part of Simmons, the one that had largely been responsible for keeping him alive for as long as he had been following his escape?

  
Well, that part was understandably more than just a bit wary of the potential limelight such actions were sure to put him under.  What if his parents recognized him from a news article or a television report?  Or, far worse than even that, what if the men who had taken him before did?

  
…Was it worth the risk just to _try_ and make a difference?

  
Simmons paused from his running thoughts on an unfamiliar street corner in the rain, swearing to himself when he came to the sudden realization that he had no idea where exactly in the lower districts he was.

  
At times like this, he supposed he could at least be mildly grateful that one of his _“upgrades”_ happened to be a rudimentary form of GPS.  The cyborg tapped his temple, right near his cybernetic eye, and began to cycle through its various features before getting said program started.

  
Damn it.  It seemed that he had a ways to go before he would be back at his apartment building.  Simmons sighed and pulled his soaking hoodie closer to his body.  At least the walk home would give him plenty of time to think things through.  After all, overanalyzing data was something of a hobby of his.

  
*****

  
The day after he had proposed the team idea to his chosen few idiots, Leonard Church woke up in something of a mood.

  
His _“sunny disposition”_ was mainly due to the fact that Tex had left late the previous night to follow up on some leads about Charon without telling him anything.  Again.  Fucking bitch knew he hated how much she and Carolina often felt the need to keep him in the dark, yet she constantly did it anyways and Church kept getting frustrated.  He must be a masochist.

  
In fact, the main reason as to why he had decided to try and form this team in the first place was to better stay in the fucking loop.  Church was so fucking tired of always being the last to know anything, as if he didn’t deserve a say in what went on in his own miserable life.

  
Sheila appeared in holograph form to greet Church the second he groggily stepped out of his room.  As he mumbled about how he needed a goddamned coffee pot right by his bed, Sheila acknowledged the cobalt-wearing man with a polite dip of her head, “Good morning, Church.” She flickered momentarily, “Things seem to be rather lively here for once.”

  
Church couldn’t help but raise a dark eyebrow incredulously at her statement, “ _Please_ don’t tell me that Caboose got near the stove again.”

  
But, that couldn’t possibly be it.  Unless the younger man had somehow damaged the fire and smoke alarms this time too which, given Caboose, wasn’t out of the range of possibility.

  
Sheila smiled and shook her head at Church’s comment, disappearing and rematerializing a moment later at the top of the foyer stairs, “It might be best if you go down and see for yourself.”

  
Curious and more than a tad perturbed by her playful, secretive behavior _this_ early in the fucking morning, Church took the Virtual Intelligence’s advice and headed down the stairs.  It was too fucking early for this shit.

  
“This is so great!” Church could hear Caboose’s voice saying rather loudly, “It’s like a super-secret party!  …Where is the piñata?”

  
“Oh, oh!  If there _is_ one, I am a _pro_ when it comes to whacking!”  Ah, so Donut was here too then?  Maybe that was what Sheila had meant…

  
“No me sigas mirando.”  _{“Don’t keep staring at me.”}_

  
Okay, Church had definitely not expected _Lopez_ to be here.  If he was here, then that probably meant…

  
“Son, if this is a party than it is the sorriest excuse of one that I’ve ever seen.” Sarge’s Southern drawl spoke up not a second later, “Where’s the shooting and explosives booth?”

  
“¡No todas las partes tienen esas!”  _{“Not all parties have those!”}_

  
“Lopez is right!” Donut chimed in again, “A party _needs_ a karaoke machine!”

  
“...Oh, mierda.” _{“…Oh, shit.”}_

  
“It might be too early for that.” Doc’s cheerful voice entered into the fray gently, “What about the neighbors?”

  
“I say we invite them!” A girl’s loud voice suddenly remarked, “It isn’t a party until you’ve crammed as many people as you can into a tight, sweating space!”

  
“Yeah, yeah…” Doc began, “Wait, what?”

  
“That sounds like fun!” Donut exclaimed, “I love cramming!”

  
“Yeah!  Where are we on the piñata exactly?” Caboose inquired, “Candy’s always good.”

  
Not wanting to overhear more of the ridiculous conversation, Church raced down the stairs in order to prove that his ears weren’t deceiving him.  Sure enough, they weren’t.

Doc, Donut, Caboose, Sarge, Lopez, and Kaikaina were all crowded into his foyer.  The group’s talk on whether or not this constituted as some kind of party stopped when they looked up at his gaping mouth.

  
“Well, well.  Look who’s _finally_ up from his beauty sleep!” Sarge harrumphed, arms crossed over his chest.

  
“’Bout time!  We’ve been waiting here forever!” Kaikaina grumbled, motioning to the door with her head, “My brother went outside for a smoke.  That was, like, two hours ago!  Hope he didn’t fall asleep again.”

  
“Good morning, Church!” Doc greeted politely, “Did you rest well?  Orange juice might help with those dark spots under your eyes!”

  
Church stood at the bottom of the stairs, blinking for a few moments before he found his words, “What the fuck are you all doing here?”

  
There was a glance shared amongst the group, and Donut beamed, “I _told_ you that he’d be surprised!”

  
Sarge huffed, “Isn’t it obvious?” The red-wearing man asked gruffly, “We came to join the team.”

  
“... Contra todo mejor juicio.”  _{“…Against all better judgement.”}_

  
“On a trial basis, of course.” Doc emphasized, hands gesturing in a halting motion.

  
Kaikaina shrugged, “At least until I have something better to do,” she mumbled as she wriggled her dark eyebrows, “Or _someone_.”

  
“It really is just like a party!” Caboose noted happily, “Church!  This is going to be so much fun!”

  
Church was shocked into silence by the admission.  He must have looked like an idiot with his mouth still hanging open in surprise as Sheila reappeared next to him on the stairs.

  
“Isn’t this what you wanted, Church?” She inquired, regarding his disbelief with mild concern.

  
“O—of course!” Church said as he tried to recover quickly.  Still, he couldn’t help admitting: “I just hadn’t really expected it, if I’m being honest.  I mean, I know I am pretty fucking convincing, but this—!”

  
“I can barely fucking believe it either.”

  
Church turned his attention to the doorway, where Tucker stood with Junior.  His friend gripped his son’s hand tightly in his own, as if seeing the motley crew gathered in the building was making him second guess being there.

  
The boy waved shyly with his free hand at the assembled group while Tucker finally smirked up at Church before speaking: “I’m just shocked you managed to _actually_ put a team together.  Your people skills suck.”

  
Church frowned at the comment, “Hey, asshole—!“

  
Tucker held up a hand to cut Church off, “Congratulations, dude.  I really mean it.” He said, though the dark-skinned man’s expression became serious a second later, “But we need to talk.”

 

*****

  
Both Church and Lavernius Tucker made their way to the rooftop of the building, Tucker rather glad that Doc and Donut had latched onto the idea of _“babysitting”_ Junior while the friends were having their talk.  With Sheila’s supervision, of course.

  
He’d trust Sheila with his kid in a heartbeat.  He didn’t know either Doc or Donut really well, but they both seemed nice and harmless enough besides being total morons.  At least the computer program could be as protective as a fucking tank when she felt the need for it, so there were no concerns for Junior’s safety while Tucker and Church talked.

  
Once the two men were standing awkwardly in the slightly chilly and damp air, Church turned to Tucker and crossed his arms over his chest, “Well?”

  
Tucker sighed.  Best to just get this shit over with.  Neither of them were good at beating around the bush.  It was probably how they had become such good friends in the first place.

  
“You know that what you’re doing is fucking crazy, right?” Tucker finally asked, eyes narrowing darkly.

  
Church huffed indignantly, “It isn’t any crazier than the entirety of that fucked up Project Freelancer everyone still seems to miss.” There was a definite bitter edge to his voice just then, not that Tucker could really blame him for it.

  
The teal-wearing man shook his head, letting out another tired sigh.  It figured that Church would bring that up.

  
“That is so not the point here, dude.” Tucker informed Church emphatically, “You’re expecting to train people who have no experience with fighting something as organized as _Charon_ is?”  That would be fucking challenging even for someone who has _way_ more skills than you do.”

  
“Hey!” His friend bristled at the remark, “It’s not my fault people fucking suck!”

  
Tucker raised an eyebrow but otherwise chose to ignore Church’s outburst, “Charon _is_ the same group that’s been proving a challenge for Tex and Carolina, isn’t it?”

  
“That’s the exact reason we _need_ some kind of team now!” Church tried reasoning emphatically.

  
Tucker knew that, in his own way, Church just wanted to do right by those few he cared for.  He knew that, but still… “I get it, Church.  But is it really worth the risk?” He asked with a frown on his face.

  
Before Church could open his mouth to respond, Tucker carried on, “What about the civilian lives of everyone you’re trying to recruit?” He asked, “What about me, trying to raise Junior on my own?” Tucker shook his head, “I’m not sure I could do that and constantly put his life in danger.  Or leave him without a fucking father.”

  
Church frowned and, from the furrowing of his brows, it seemed as if he was actually mulling over what Tucker had just said.  Tucker waited rather impatiently for him to just finally fucking _say_ something.

  
“So _that_ is what you’ve been up to.”

  
Both men spun around at the voice coming from the shadows, and Tucker was surprised to see a blond-haired man who looked strangely familiar standing there.  The man was dressed in gray and yellow, a largely unimpressed expression looming on his freckled features.

  
Church’s face darkened suddenly at the newcomer’s presence just as realization dawned on Tucker, _“Washington!”_

  
“Hey, you’re the extra quiet guy who moved into my building!” Tucker couldn’t help exclaiming at roughly the same moment as Church’s outburst, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  
*****

  
Once more, Simmons found himself standing in front of Church’s building, heart _(or whatever was his new equivalent of a heart since he wasn’t sure on the details)_ thundering loudly in his chest.  Currently, the cyborg was trying his hardest to take in deep, calming breaths to soothe his anxiety.

  
After all, the redhead had decided to return here.  On his own, no less!  Even if Simmons still wasn’t entirely sure what his decision was yet, he might as well see how things were progressing with the others.  Who knew?  Whatever he saw might help make his decision easier, one way or another.

  
As Simmons made his way over to the building, he was stopped by a sudden, casual greeting of “Hey.”

  
When he glanced towards the voice he found Grif standing in the doorway’s shadow, smoking.  The chubby man glanced over at Simmons with something akin to slight interest in his dark brown eyes.  But, all Simmons could see at that moment was that the orange-wearing man was smoking.  Again.  Did Grif just not give a shit at all about his health?

  
Simmons sighed and spoke before he could stop himself, “You know, you’re seriously going to ruin your lungs if you keep that up.”

  
He half-expected Grif to haul off and punch him, or flick the cigarette in his face.  Or just insult him.  Anybody else would have.

  
Instead, surprisingly, Grif regarded the maroon-wearing nerd with mild amusement as he carried on with enjoying his smoke.  “Looks like you made your decision after all.” Grif noted at length.

  
Simmons felt his face grow warm as he became somewhat flustered by the remark, “I—I suppose so.”

  
He started feeling defensive and glared, somewhat afraid that Grif was going to tell him something along the lines of that he was a spineless idiot who couldn’t hope to match up to the rest of them.  …Why did Simmons suddenly imagine Grif saying that all in his _father’s_ disapproving voice?  If there was one thing he could say about Dexter Grif, it was that he was nothing like Simmons’ father.

  
Instead, the heavyset man surprised him once more.  Grif’s amusement in regards to Simmons only seemed to increase at the cyborg’s suddenly defensive body language.  He uncaringly tossed his cigarette onto the entrance’s steps.  Simmons couldn’t help but make a face in disgust at the blatant littering, an expression that was promptly ignored by Grif.

  
“Well then, I guess it should at least be pretty entertaining to see what happens next.” The tan-skinned man informed the cyborg before opening the door to Church’s building, almost as if he was waiting patiently for the redhead to follow him inside.  …Simmons was pretty sure he was just moving lazily like a sloth though.

  
Simmons couldn’t help but frown as he followed Grif’s lead, not quite sure _what_ the other had meant.  His anxiety came back in full force when he heard the door shut behind them.  Yet, when he saw Grif’s suddenly amused smirk at the cyborg’s obvious expense, he couldn’t help but feel pissed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up on _Specials_ …Washington gets a lengthy lecture on the finer points of stalking and lurking in shadows, plus a training exhibition match suddenly gets rather awkward for poor Simmons. XD I hope you will be looking forward to it! :)
> 
> Thank you very much for reading this story! :D


	5. Chapter Four: ...Hope you survive the experience!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

The man that Church had identified oh-so-helpfully as Washington mere moments before chose to ignore both Lavernius Tucker’s and Church’s simultaneous outbursts. Instead, the blond frowned and turned to Church with a look that showed just how truly unimpressed he was by the situation at hand.

“What you’re doing is beyond pointless, Church.” Washington informed Church in a matter-of-fact voice, “It’s also incredibly dangerous.”

Church scoffed at the remark, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff, “Like I fucking need _you_ of all people telling me what to do, Washington.”

The blond-haired male sighed and shook his head, “Didn’t your time with Freelancer teach you anything, Church?”

“Yeah. It taught me that the world is full of fucking assholes.” The dark-haired man couldn’t help muttering testily under his breath.

Washington’s gray eyes darkened dangerously, and he took a deliberate step towards the cobalt-wearing Special. Tucker, having had just about enough as he could stand of this vague-as-all-fuck talk, and not really wanting to see his friend beaten into a bloody pulp just for being his usual asshole self, stepped in-between the two.

“Hold up.” He told them, his arms spread out to keep the two at bay, “How the fuck do you guys even know each other?”

Church scoffed once more, “Isn’t that obvious, Tucker?”

Okay, so it was a dumb question that the teal-wearing man had asked. It was painfully obvious what the answer was once Tucker thought back on how the conversation had gone beforehand. “Oh great.” He couldn’t help groaning, “Now I have a Freelancer asshole actually living _in_ my building and he’s a fucking stalker too!”

Washington’s face became an indignant hue of red, “I—I wasn’t stalking anyone!” He tried arguing, “I simply followed you and your son on the off-chance that you happened to know Church.”

That admission was met with disbelieving stares from both Tucker and Church.

“That’s pretty much the definition of stalking, asshole.” Church finally informed Washington, his hand reaching to rub at his temple as if he was fighting a headache.

Tucker nodded his head in agreement, “Definitely, dude.”

Washington became flustered, and Tucker’s view of him as a kickass special agent started to dissipate even further, “N—no, it isn’t!” He insisted rather desperately.

“It certainly sounds like that to me.” Tex’s voice chimed in and, to absolutely no one’s surprise, the blonde exited from the same shadows that Washington had emerged from minutes before.

Washington sighed in exasperation at his former teammate’s presence, “Tex. What are _you_ doing here?”

Tex shrugged indifferently, a playful smirk on her lips, “Lurking.”

“See?” Church cried out triumphantly, “At least _she_ has the balls to admit it!”

Washington chose to pointedly ignore the three smirks thrown his way by trying to move past the debate entirely, “ _Please_ don’t tell me you’re actually on board with this.” He turned to Tex with a reluctant tone that implied he already knew, and dreaded, the answer.

Tex spared Church a glance before shrugging once more, “Church is a grown man and can do whatever the hell he wants in his spare time.” She told the other Freelancer, “Besides, it isn’t like having a team that wouldn’t be bogged down by Freelancer protocols couldn’t prove more beneficial to the city in the long run.”

Washington frowned, “I wouldn’t be so sure, considering who he’s been trying to recruit.”

_That_ remark naturally only served to royally piss Tucker off. He happened to _be_ one of those assholes, damn it! “Hey, you know what?” He snapped at the slightly older man, “Why don’t you go and fuck off?”

Washington blinked in surprise, clearly not having expected such a reaction. Okay, so the Freelancer wasn’t just socially awkward, he was fucking dense too. “Why are you getting upset?” Washington inquired, “From the sound of things, you aren’t too keen on this idea either.”

Tucker scoffed, “I’m not, but that’s because I have a kid _and_ a brain.” He noted, a defiant gleam blazing in his dark brown eyes, “Trust me, dude, I am a _lot_ better than you are giving me credit for.”

Washington frowned, opening his mouth in protest, “I—!“

But Tucker cut him off by turning to Church just then, “Hey, Church? Suddenly, I’m in the mood for an impromptu training session just like the old times.”

Church and Tex both shared a surprised glance at one another before returning Tucker’s smirk with their own. The cobalt-wearing man grinned as he turned to Tucker, “…That can be arranged.”

*****

When they entered the building, Grif immediately zeroed in on Kaikaina. Not that the girl was trying to hide, what with her loud exclamation of _“What took you so long, asshole?”_ and her exuberant waving. The older Grif sibling took his little sister to the side of the foyer to discuss something privately without a second glance at Richard “Dick” Simmons, leaving the cyborg to his own devices.

At first, Simmons was almost tempted to follow Grif even though he knew the conversation between the relatives wasn’t something that was probably meant for his ears. Still, Dexter Grif was the only person in the room that he had (barely) known for more than a total of five seconds. The redhead was just about to step closer to the orange-wearing man when a new voice spoke and caught his attention.

“Glad you could make it, son.” The older man dressed entirely in red, who the cyborg remembered was named Sarge, nodded his head towards Simmons in greeting.

Sarge was standing by the stairs with a thoroughly disinterested-looking Lopez, polishing the shotgun that Simmons could only hope he had some kind of a permit for. He inclined his head again slightly in the maroon-wearing man’s direction when he saw that he had his attention.

Simmons was grateful for the distraction as it helped calm his nerves, and he was equally grateful for the chance to do something instead of simply stand there awkwardly. He approached Sarge and Lopez cautiously, but tried offering a smile in greeting. “It’s…nice to see you again too, sir.” He mumbled, falling into his tendency to suck up to authority figures before he could stop himself.

Sarge harrumphed, “I’m just here to see how this _team_ scenario goes myself.” He informed the cyborg, patting his weapon affectionately, “My shotgun’s all geared up to fight crime!”

Simmons frowned, recalling from the briefing before that Sarge’s power had something to do with bullet generation. “Do you create the shells for your shotgun yourself, sir?” He couldn’t help but ask, his natural tendency for being inquisitive getting the best of him.

Sarge looked rather impressed that Simmons had remembered that detail, and Simmons couldn’t help the swell of pride in his chest at the sight. The older man stood up straighter, a proud gleam in his dark eyes, “Of course!” He exclaimed emphatically, “I always have an infinite supply, and I can do with them whatever I please.”

“En su mayoría sólo dispara a latas.” _{“He mostly just shoots at cans.”}_

Whatever Lopez said, it sounded oddly sarcastic and cynical. But, Sarge seemed to interpret it rather differently. The older man laughed, “Well said, Lopez! Target practice _is_ important!”

Lopez sighed, his mechanical shoulders slumping even further.

Sarge patted the brown-armored robot on the shoulder, looking at him proudly, “I built Lopez myself to help me with my work.” He told Simmons conversationally.

“¿Una vez más, pregunto por qué?” _{“Again, I ask why?”}_

Simmons couldn’t help but be impressed once more, “That’s amazing, sir!” His praise seemed to please Sarge to no end, but Lopez stared at him incredulously.

“Me programó para hablar un idioma que ni siquiera entiende, ya sabes.” _{“He programmed me to speak a language he doesn’t even understand, you know.”}_

Sarge nodded his head in agreement to whatever Lopez had said, “He’s right, it’s good to have someone around here who has a keen eye for ability such as yourself!”

“Él está alabándote. ¿Qué clase de ojo agudo es eso?” _{“He’s praising you. What kind of keen eye is that?”}_

Simmons couldn’t help but feel his face heating up. To have someone even older than his father acknowledge something positive about him… Before the cyborg could throw himself at Sarge’s feet and offer his assistance for anything the other man might need in the future, a little boy raced past them, laughing, with Donut and Doc right on his heels.

“Hey, Simmons!” Donut greeted as he ran past in a pink blur.

“Good to see you again!” Doc chimed in as well.

Sheila materialized in the trail of dust the giggling trio left in their wake, smiling. “It’s good that everyone is so lively.” She murmured fondly.

“No estaría muy seguro de eso.” _{“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”}_

Whatever Lopez had said caused the Virtual Intelligence to turn around and regard him, her smile never faltering. “I am especially glad to see another Virtual Intelligence presence here.” She noted.

“No he venido por elección, pero de repente no me importa mucho.” _{“I didn’t come here by choice, but suddenly I don’t mind that quite so much.”}_

The two went silent then, staring at one another. Simmons swore there was something of a twinkle visible in the holographic projection of Sheila’s eyes just then.

Sarge coughed awkwardly a few moments later to no doubt dispel the heavy silence that had suddenly fallen over the group.

“Yes, well, unlike you and the three eager beavers…” He motioned to Doc, Donut, and Caboose with some slight nods of his head, “Those two siblings seem like they might be trouble.” He motioned to Kaikaina and Grif, still talking to one another in a corner of the foyer, “Especially the one in orange.”

Simmons turned to look over at the two conversing siblings before turning back to Sarge with a raised eyebrow, “You…you really think so?”

He admittedly hadn’t had a very favorable first impression of Grif. But, the chubby man seemed harmless enough, if a little too quick to rely on his power. Kaikaina seemed all right too, save for maybe being a bit too extreme and unpredictable at times.

Sarge nodded his head matter-of-factly, “I have a hunch. Plus, I’ve never been a big fan of orange. Worst color next to dirty blue.”

Simmons’ frown deepened. He was about to open his mouth to ask why that was when Tucker, Church, Tex, and a mysterious newcomer all came flying down the stairs. Everyone stopped what they were doing at the sudden intrusion, all eyes focused on the stranger in gray and yellow who was frowning at nothing in particular.

Tucker was scanning the room with definite purpose. His eyes lighted up when they zeroed in on Simmons, who couldn’t help but take a step back nervously at the sudden attention.

“Yo! You actually came!” Tucker beamed, bounding down the rest of the stairs as he clapped Simmons on his metal shoulder, “Want to have a sparring match?”

“Er…” Simmons blinked, unsure of what was happening.

“Come on, dude. I bet your kickass cybernetics will totally compliment my style!” Tucker practically pleaded.

Because Tucker seemed rather desperate for some reason, and also because he had complimented Simmons, the flustered cyborg couldn’t help but shakily nod his head in quiet, uncertain agreement.

Tucker beamed, “Fuck yeah!”

Church began scanning the room just then, “Now for some sparring partners…”

His eyes stopped roaming the foyer when they landed on the two Grif siblings. Suddenly, Church smirked as if he had hatched some diabolical plot for world domination. Grif couldn’t help but mutter _“Fuck me.”_ under his breath when he realized what had happened.

“Oh, boy! I love going to the training hall!” Caboose yelled out excitedly, jumping up and down as if he’d won a prize.

*****

The training hall was located underground in the building’s basement. It was huge. _“Wow, I bet you could stuff a lot of guys in here!”_ Donut had exclaimed when they had all first filed inside, much to everyone else’s chagrin. As Simmons stared at the large room, he couldn’t help but wonder once more just _what_ kind of facility this was and how Church had even gained access to it.

As if reading his thoughts, Church mumbled under his breath, “Most of my family might have been assholes, but they had _some_ secrets that proved useful.”

That remark had Simmons wondering even _more_ just what he meant. Church promptly changed the subject once both parties who would be involved in the sparring match stood facing one another in the middle of the cavernous room.

The bystanders were off to the side. Some, like Tex and Sarge, loudly placed bets on how things would play out. Others, like the mysterious Washington, simply looked on with contemplative frowns on their faces. Donut and Caboose were grinning, as if they were enjoying a party. Simmons could have sworn that Donut was holding pom-poms, although for the life of him he couldn’t figure out where the pink-wearing man had gotten ahold of them.

“All right, the rules are _really_ fucking simple.” Church began, “The team who gets the other to power down first is the winner.” He glanced around at the assembled four, “Everyone ready?”

Kaikaina was grinning, “Fuck yeah, I’m ready!” She exclaimed, “This is going to be fun!”

Grif sighed, rolling his eyes as he stood with arms crossed lazily over his chest, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Simmons nodded, but couldn’t help gulping nervously all the same, “Let’s…let’s go!”

Tucker clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly, “Relax, dude. We’ve fucking got this!” The dark-skinned man was looking pointedly at Washington while he said that, the Freelancer’s frown deepening as he too crossed his arms over his chest.

Church stepped back to join the others at the side of the room, and the fight suddenly began in earnest with Grif dropping his relaxed stance and Tucker suddenly conjuring up a sword made entirely of glowing energy.

“Watch my back!” The teal-wearing man yelled out to Simmons.

Simmons shakily nodded and complied to the request by raising his cybernetic hand. A warmth flowed through his body as he fired a warning energy beam from his palm towards Grif and Kaikaina, causing the two siblings to disperse just as Tucker raced forward to try slicing at Grif. But, despite his size, Grif moved surprisingly fast and dodged the blow.

For a split second, Tucker was left standing there, looking around in what was probably more confusion than the situation warranted. Simmons realized that was probably due to Grif having used his power on Tucker when he saw the chubby man deck him, nearly knocking Tucker over in the process.

Simmons fired off another beam, narrowly missing Grif this time. He was suddenly overwhelmed by an extreme sense of dizziness as he struggled to stay upright and not wobble too much on his feet. Fuck! He had totally forgotten about Kaikaina!

The whole room spun, and Simmons felt like he was definitely going to puke. Not only was the redhead dizzy, but suddenly he had no idea what he was even doing or what was up or down. He could almost swear that he was being swept off his feet a second later. But, instead of being thrown to the ground, he was floating in the air with a blurry tan face above him.

Oh yeah, he was _definitely_ going to puke. A blur of teal raced past him out of the corner of his eye.

“All right, it’s a tie!” He suddenly heard Church yell.

Simmons blinked and started looking around as his perception slowly started to return to normal. He first realized that Tucker had his energy sword at Kaikaina’s throat at the other end of the arena, and that had probably been what had stopped her from maintaining her vertigo powers on him.

The next thing he noticed was that _Grif_ was actually holding him in his arms.

“You know, for someone with a lot of metal in them? You’re surprisingly light.” The heavyset man noted almost conversationally before adding for a shocked Simmons’ benefit, “Overwhelming someone’s senses is a double whammy trick we’ve mastered over the years.”

Simmons couldn’t help but nod, “You two do seem to work really well together from a powers stance…” But, he trailed off when he started to fully realize his current predicament and the fact that Grif still hadn’t let him down. His face became unbearably hot, and unfortunately, on top of that, he still felt like he was going to vomit.

“I…I think I’m going to be sick.” Simmons muttered out loud and, not a second later, Grif promptly dropped him to the ground. “Ow!” Simmons winced from his new position on the floor before glaring up at Grif, “You’re an asshole.” He told him emphatically, ‘You didn’t need to carry me in the first place, let alone drop me!”

Grif shrugged, “I didn’t want to get puke on me.” He raised a dark eyebrow, “So, next time I should just let you fall and crack your skull open?”

_That_ caused Simmons’ face to turn red once more, “Fat-ass.” Yet he didn’t even think twice about taking the hand that Grif extended to help him off the ground.

“Congratulations on the tie!” Kaikaina was saying to Tucker, “That was fucking awesome!”

Tucker grinned over at Simmons, “It was a group effort.” He noted.

The dark-skinned man’s comment caused Simmons to blush even more, “I just…I wish I could have done more.”

“Nah, you did fine!” Tucker assured him, before turning with a smug expression over to where Washington had been standing, only to frown when he realized that the older man was no longer there. “Fuck!” He cursed under his breath before bending down to Junior’s level, “I’ll be right back, kiddo. Okay?”

Junior nodded, smiling at having seen his father perform so well. Tucker raced out of the training hall then, and Church looked around at the rest of the group. “All right, who wants to go next?” He asked no one in particular.

“Oh, oh! I do!” Donut exclaimed, happily waving the pom-poms in his hands around as if in a cheer squad.

“Me too!” Caboose joined in not a second later.

From behind all of them, Tex smirked with her arms crossed over her chest. “Things might actually work out, after all.” She muttered under her breath, head tilted in amusement as Sarge handed her the money for the tie she had wagered on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally, I wouldn’t write three chapters in a row for any story, but the last three chapters were actually an idea I had had for just one really super-long chapter originally. So, I figured I should write them all out because of that. I’ll be going back to my regular posting schedule of a chapter for each of my stories now that these ones are out of the way. :)
> 
> Next up on _Specials_ : Tucker and Washington have a talk, while Simmons talks more with the Grif siblings as well as Sheila, Lopez, and Junior. Plus, our resident cyborg continues to debate just what to do with himself as Grif gets a mysterious message. :D
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this chapter!


	6. Chapter Five: Band Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Lavernius Tucker caught up to Washington about a block and a half away from Church’s place. The mother fucking Freelancer was walking at a brisk and, evidently, rather determined pace away from the building. Tucker could kind of understand Washington’s rush. If he had any common sense, the teal-wearing man would have been getting the hell away from those jerks too.

“H—hey, wait up…asshole…!” Tucker managed to wheeze out while his legs felt as if they were on fire from moving fast just so he could actually catch up with the older man. _Damn._ He was out of shape.

Fortunately for Tucker, Washington _did_ in fact stop. With a heavy sigh, the blond turned to fix the dark-skinned man with an indifferent look in his gray eyes. “What is it?” He asked the heavily breathing Special behind him, “Also, wow. How are you so out of breath?”

“First of all, fuck you. We’re not all in crazy ass Freelancer shape.” Tucker frowned and took a few minutes to collect himself, “You _could_ have stayed until the sparring match was over, you know.”

“I did.” Washington’s response was enough to catch Tucker off-guard, “You and the others aren’t without some skill, although you clearly need some stamina training.” He noted rather begrudgingly.

Tucker was going to take a compliment when he heard one, deciding it best to ignore the jab at his fitness. At least until his lungs stopped burning and his heavy breathing subsided.

Tucker couldn’t help grinning at Washington, “Damn straight, we are!” He informed him emphatically before fixing the blond with a quizzical stare, “But something tells me our awesome-as-fuck skills still weren’t enough to convince you that this is a good idea.”

At least, that was the impression Tucker got. Kind of hard to interpret someone walking out like Washington had any other way.

Washington sighed yet again and Tucker couldn’t help but feel that that was par the course for him, “I still think it is a bad one.” The blond told him point blank, before fixing Tucker with a level stare and changing tactics, “Does this mean _you’ve_ changed your mind?”

Tucker harrumphed, “Fuck no, dude! I still think it’s a piss poor idea.” He informed Washington before letting out a tired sigh himself, shoulders slumping as he shook his dark-haired head in disbelief, “I am seriously regretting that I’m even considering it, especially with my kid and all.”

Washington raised an eyebrow in surprise to his response, “What do you mean?” He inquired, for the first time in their conversation dropping the hard edge tone.

“Dude, I’ve had run-ins with all sorts of people before who weren’t exactly _fond_ of Specials.” Tucker explained, frowning, “I just want to make sure I can keep Junior protected from that Special phobia shit, especially considering his dad is one.” He smirked self-deprecatingly, “Church is an asshole, yeah, but I know he means well in his own weird-as-fuck way by attempting this.”

Washington frowned, “You might be right.” He admitted rather begrudgingly, before casting a questioning look over at the younger man, “So, just what are you going to do then?”

Tucker couldn’t help shrugging his shoulders in response to the gray-eyed man’s question, “Fuck if I know.” He answered honestly, “I’m just going to see what will happen one day at a time.” He couldn’t help smirking in Washington’s direction a second later though, “Someone like you might want to try that as well.”

Washington said nothing in reply, though he looked a little flustered all the same. Good. He had wanted to see cracks in the Freelancer’s tough exterior. Tucker took Washington’s expression to mean mission accomplished.

With a sigh, he turned in the direction of Church’s home, “I’ve got to pick up Junior.” Tucker informed the blond-haired man, casting a quick glance sideways at him, “But I suppose I’ll be seeing you around some?”

For some reason that he couldn’t quite explain then, Tucker really sort of hoped that would be the case.

“I suppose so.” The Freelancer said at length, a blond eyebrow raised as if surprised at his own answer.

Tucker nodded with a welcoming sort of grin suffusing his features before he started to jog back towards where his son was. Jogging at a more comfortable, leisurely pace than he had been going before, obviously.

Washington simply watched Tucker as his form got smaller in the distance, a thoughtful frown clouding his face.

*****

Richard “Dick” Simmons found himself in the foyer of Church’s building once again, having returned to the location in order to recover from the sparring match. He startled slightly at the sound of a large commotion coming from behind the door that led down into the training area. The redhead couldn’t help but wonder just what kind of shenanigans going on down there had created it.

“Are they _still_ going at it?” A lazy, all-too-familiar voice asked from behind him, “Don’t they know it is too much effort for this training shit?”

Simmons nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun around, causing a flash of amusement to dance in Dexter Grif’s brown eyes as he and a thoroughly bored-looking Kaikaina Grif stood in the foyer.

Dimly, Simmons recalled that the two siblings had slipped upstairs before the next match had even begun. He had just assumed it had been due to their wanting to leave the premises. Evidently, they had just been exploring Church’s building instead.

Simmons shakily recovered when he realized it was just the Grif siblings, and he even managed to nod his head in response to Grif’s question. The cyborg was painfully aware that his voice would more than likely squeak in anxiety if he actually spoke just then.

Grif whistled as he stared at the door contemplatively, “With Doc’s power being negation, I would have thought that things would have ended by now.”

Simmons frowned as he recalled what he had seen of the ongoing match before he had made his escape, “It probably _would_ have, if Doc actually tried fighting.” He informed the Grif siblings, “He was just dodging Sarge’s bullets or accidentally canceling out Donut’s force fields if he got too close. Caboose was just running around and trying to play tag with everyone.”

A yell of exasperation from Church made its way up to the foyer level then, _“Come on! Just fucking do something already, Doc!”_

The foyer’s door opened not a minute later, revealing the holographic form of Sheila along with the more tangible forms of Junior and Lopez. Sheila had her head bent towards Junior as she continued whatever story she was telling him just then about his father, “…And Tucker was quite surprised to find out that I had recovered the entire thing in my database.”

“I’ll bet!” The child grinned up at her, clearly enjoying the story.

Lopez let out a mechanical sigh just then.

“Nadie se dio cuenta de que me había alejado. Figuras.” _{“No one even noticed that I had walked away. Figures.”}_

Sheila and Junior both turned their heads towards the Spanish-speaking robot, “Lopez, you are more than welcome to hang out with us for the time being.” Sheila informed him politely.

“Yeah!” Junior nodded his head in agreement.

Lopez actually seemed oddly touched by the gesture, though he wasn’t able to respond to it vocally as the trio finally noticed the Grif siblings and Simmons.

“Oh, son ustedes tres.” _{“Oh, it’s you three.”}_

“Hello.” Sheila greeted politely with an incline of her head towards their direction as Junior nodded and waved his hand shyly in greeting.

“Fucking awesome. New people! What’s up?” Kaikaina asked the three newcomers, “I’m bored talking to nerdy gray guy and my brother.”

“I believe that Tucker should be back any second for Junior.” Sheila informed them, “I was going to take him to meet up with his father so that they could make the trip home.”

Simmons became curious at the holographic projection’s words and couldn’t help asking, “Is it really even possible for you to leave the building?” He realized how that sounded, his face burning up not a second later, “Er, I mean…!”

Sheila smiled, “Thank you for your concern, but I have left the premises on multiple occasions in the past.”

“Worrywart.” Grif muttered at Simmons under his breath. Save for a twitching eyebrow, Simmons ignored him, choosing instead to focus on Sheila’s remark. Whatever technology made her was certainly fascinating.

“¿Tu estar aquí todavía significa que has decidido?” _{“Does your still being here mean you’ve decided?”}_

As everyone else stared blankly at Lopez, Sheila nodded her head in quiet understanding of whatever the robot had just said.

“Lopez was simply wondering if you had made up your minds about joining Church’s group.” She told them, much to the brown-armored robot’s open astonishment.

“I…I want to try to convince my dad to join up!” Junior told them just then in a rush of words, “It would be so cool!”

“Yeah, you should totally go for it, little man!” Kaikaina agreed with her usual level of exuberance.

“Realmente no tengo mucho que decir en el asunto, aunque supongo que hay cosas peores que podría estar haciendo con mi tiempo.” _{“I don't really have much say in the matter, though I suppose there are worse things I could be doing with my time.”}_

“Fuck, yeah! I’m doing it!” The tan-skinned girl in yellow proclaimed, “It seems like it will be fun, and for once not in the _bend over_ variety.”

“Damn it, Kai!” Grif said to his sister before turning his attention to the others, “I’m thinking about it, though it seems more like a pain to me.”

“Aw, you’re no fun!” Kaikaina turned to him then, sticking out her tongue for added emphasis.

Her brother simply shrugged his shoulders, “Your definition of fun is questionable.” He noted, “I prefer just lying low and staying alive.”

“You suck!” was Kai’s immediate reply.

All eyes landed on Simmons then, and he couldn’t help fidgeting awkwardly under their gaze. “I…I’m not sure yet.” He admitted rather sheepishly.

Grif grinned, “I’m honestly surprised that you came back at all, nerd.” He told him matter-of-factly, as if he could read the maroon-wearing cyborg like a book.

Simmons bristled at the heavyset man’s tone, “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

Grif, however, chose to ignore the question entirely, much to Simmons’ growing frustration. Instead, the orange-wearing man turned to face his little sister, “We need to get going, Kai.” He told her, as if he was done with the whole conversation.

“Aw, that’s no fun!” Kaikaina frowned in disappointment, but skipped to the exit all the same.

This surprised the others, particularly Simmons, “Why are you leaving so early?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking, suddenly vividly aware of how clingy that sounded. It wasn’t that he cared what Grif was up to. He was just naturally inquisitive, that’s all!

Grif smirked at the redhead, “Why are you so curious?” The look in his dark eyes indicated he was enjoying the self-inflicted torment the redhead was going through.

Simmons felt the heat rush to the flesh parts of his face then, “I—I’m not!” He promptly denied, “I just… Oh, never mind!”

“At any rate,” Grif continued, turning his attention to Sheila after casting one more amused glance at the flustered Simmons, “We’ll probably be hanging around here for a while just to see how things play out.”

Sheila nodded her head in understanding, “I’ll be sure to inform Church of that.”

The two Grif siblings left then, and Sheila noticed the sudden frown plastered onto Simmons’ face. “There is no pressure to decide on things right away.” The Virtual Intelligence tried reassuring him gently.

“...Probablemente es mejor no hacerlo, si se le da la opción.” _{“...It's probably better not to do so, if given the option.”}_

Sheila nodded her head in agreement to whatever it was that the robot had said, “Lopez is right. This is a decision that is best made over time.”

Simmons smiled gratefully at the two as Church’s voice could be heard yelling out in exasperation once more: _“Somebody just do_ something _, damn it! Tex, stop laughing, you bitch!”_

*****

Simmons returned to his shabby one-room apartment a little while later, eventually having given up on waiting for the outcome of the sparring match. The moment the apartment door shut, he promptly began getting himself ready for bed. All alone at night. Looking at the clock that flashed 9:30 PM, he could almost hear Grif saying _“Nerd.”_

The redhead frowned in thought, knowing full well that he had to make some kind of a decision soon. He honestly still wasn’t sure of what it was that he wanted to do, and he couldn’t help but hate himself for being so indecisive.

He looked down at his carefully crafted Pros and Cons list, and definitely heard his mind say _“Nerd.”_ in Grif’s apathetic tone. The cyborg figured that maybe going back and listening some more to what Church had in mind wasn’t such a bad idea in the grand scheme of things, especially if the others were willing to do so. After all, there wasn’t much harm in listening more to what Church had to say.

It wasn’t like he was being forced to join the group. It was just that he couldn’t reach a conclusion without collecting more data.

Simmons fell into a restless sleep soon after having reached his decision, not even bothering to eat his usual convenience store bought meal.

*****

Dexter Grif opened the door to the house that he shared with Kaikaina in the lower districts. The chubby man sighed to himself as he let his coat drop haphazardly to the floor, wondering just how it was that he had gotten caught up in all of this bullshit.

It had been bad enough when it had been just him and Kai struggling to make ends meet after their parents had abandoned their _“freak”_ children. Grif, and Kai when she had gotten older, had worked hard and they were pretty well off now, all things considered. He really didn’t want any so-called _“heroics”_ ruining that for them. Being a hero wasn’t going to pay their bills, and it also wasn’t exactly going to help him keep his low-key, little effort lifestyle.

But, what could Grif do, exactly? Kai seemed pretty dead set on helping the ragtag group of hopeless misfits, and he wasn’t about to let his little sister do so all on her own.

Besides, _some_ of the people that Church was bringing in seemed all right or, at the very least, downright interesting and fun to tease. Like that Simmons guy.

Grif’s thoughts on that particular matter vanished when he stepped on an envelope that had been shoved under their door. The letter was _definitely_ not one of the ones that he or Kai had accidently dropped from their _“wait until the last possible second to open”_ pile, which was usually where bills were thrown and promptly forgotten about.

The orange-wearing man frowned, noting that the typed-up envelope in question was addressed to him by name and had no other information but his name printed on it. The message contained within the envelope was brief and to the point: _“Come to the park to talk. Come alone.”_

He sighed again in exasperation. _Fucking damn it._ Grif couldn’t help but wonder what this particular new bullshit was as he yet again reached for his coat.

“Kai, I’m heading out on a food run.” He lied (well, it really wasn’t a lie since he probably would be getting food on his way back, but it wasn’t his initial destination), “Be back soon.”

Grif didn’t even wait for the girl’s response before he was out the door once more, a crumpled letter in his coat pocket next to an empty Oreo wrapper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun chapter to write, albeit a slightly shorter one. The plot thickens though, especially with the mysterious letter that Grif received! Yay for fun character interactions too! :D
> 
> Next up on _Specials_ : Tucker, Church, and Tex discuss their next move; Simmons interacts with his neighbor; Washington and Junior have a chance to talk while Jensen babysits; and Grif finds out just who sent him that message and what it is they want. I hope the chapter will not disappoint! :D
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this story! :)


	7. Chapter Six: Dangerous Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

For a few seconds, the meeting room was blissfully quiet as both Tex and Tucker waited. Currently, Leonard Church poured over data spread out before him across the large, oval table that took up the majority of the space. The cobalt-wearing man absentmindedly strummed his fingers on the table’s cool surface, the noise amplified by the surrounding quiet.

Church knew the peaceful lack of sound wouldn’t last long. It never did. Just as a sweep of his fingers over the holographic screens caused them to fluctuate and change to new ones, the silence was broken by Tex. The black-wearing woman crossed her arms over her chest to fix him with a level stare that Church recognized as the spilt-second calm before the storm.

“Now that you more or less have your team,” she began in that matter-of-fact voice that left no room for argument, “You need to set up a mission for them so that they learn the ropes.”

Church scoffed and glanced at Tex before replying, “Thanks for stating the fucking obvious.”

Tucker frowned from his spot next to the blonde, eyes darting back and forth between Tex and Church, “Hold up. Do you really think they’re ready for that?”

Church turned his dark-haired head towards Tucker, “Why do you even care given how against this shit you are?” He questioned, “Furthermore, who the fuck even let you inside my house?”

Both Church and Tex had been engrossed in going over their own individual findings when Tucker had just sort-of entered the vicinity. Considering that Caboose had gone out for a “walk” an hour or so before, it was unlikely that he had been the one to let Tucker in.

“Hey, what can I say?” Tucker replied as he smirked, “Your house likes me.”

Sheila’s voice came through the walls then: “In a strictly platonic sense, of course.”

“Aw, man. Why’d you have to add that part?” The dark-skinned man groaned out loud. He slumped his shoulders as both Tex and Church smirked at the Virtual Intelligence’s clarification on the subject.

“Because even Sheila wants everyone to know she has standards?” Tex joked, amusement dancing in her brown eyes.

Tucker groaned again, “I _might_ be thinking of tagging along just this once.” He said, clearly deciding to change topics back to Church’s earlier question in order to save face, “If only to make sure you morons don’t cause too much trouble.”

“ _That’s_ unlikely.” Tex snorted in response, shrugging her shoulders as if Tucker was talking about an inevitability and not just a possibility.

Church bristled at the lack of faith his girlfriend was currently displaying, “Hey! This whole _“team”_ thing was partially your idea too!” He was quick to remind her.

She nodded her head slightly, “That’s why I’ve brought you a little gift.”

With a wave of her hand, all of the charts and windows that were hovering over the table disappeared. They were replaced instead by a single floating hologram of a file.

“There are just too many leads on Charon for me to investigate on my own,” Tex explained, motioning to the file, “And I have one in particular that I think would be perfect for your group.”

“What kind of lead?” Church said as he frowned in thought. He stared at the hologram warily, as if afraid it would bite. Knowing that this data came from Tex, there was a good chance that it might.

“Someone has been stealing old, confiscated data. Data that Freelancer had collected on Specials in the city. It had been stored at various government facilities.” The blonde told him, a smirk crossing over her lips, “Should be an easy enough job to get intel from, right?”

There was a note of playful challenge in her voice then, the same kind of note that usually resulted in Church being naked and handcuffed to a bed. Church tried to ignore the excitement that particular line of thinking caused to flood through him, instead choosing to contemplate the mission suggestion.

The silence was interrupted by a beeping noise.

Tucker glanced down at his phone only to softly swear to himself. He held up a finger as if to block the curious glances both Tex and Church threw his way: “It’s Jensen. She’s giving me a progress report on Junior.” He informed them, “I’ve got to take this.”

Tucker left the room, and Church locked eyes with Tex. She was waiting patiently for a response. His blue eyes wandered once more to the file hovering over the table’s surface.

Church sighed before finally nodding his head, “All right. Show me what you’ve got.”

*****

David Washington placed the key into the keyhole of his apartment door. His mind was already swimming with possible new leads, and he knew that he could follow them first thing in the morning.

Washington was aware that with his back turned he appeared to be an easy target, but the truth was that he had learned the hard way to never let his guard down. So, the blond easily noticed the movement in the hallway behind him out of the corner of his eye.

He turned, bracing for an attack before relaxing the moment he spotted Junior shyly waving at him. The child’s back was pressed against the door to his and his father’s apartment, as if he was contemplating running back inside.

Washington waved back rather awkwardly. He wasn’t exactly the most comfortable of people around children. Or around anyone, for that matter.

Dimly, he wondered if Junior’s presence meant that Tucker was home. His eyes flitted to the door behind Junior before he could chastise himself. It wasn’t like Tucker’s location really mattered to him.

“You were at Church’s house.” Junior stated without preamble, eyes openly curious.

“…That’s right.” Washington replied hesitantly as he shifted so that he was now fully facing the young boy.

“Does that mean you’re friends with Daddy?”

Washington frowned slightly at the question, though he supposed it was the sort of conclusion any young child might make. The gray-eyed man thought back to the conversation that he and Tucker had previously and he suddenly recalled the all-too stubborn and defiant look that had flashed in the dark-skinned man’s eyes…

“It’s complicated.” Washington finally said, “But I _am_ trying to look out for your father’s best interests.”

That was true. In a way. Given his own past experience, Washington knew firsthand how detrimental teams could be for someone’s wellbeing.

Junior fixed the former Freelancer with a surprisingly pointed look for someone so young, “You’re stronger than my dad.” He noted without any hesitancy or doubt in his voice, “And my dad is pretty strong when he wants to be.”

“You’re quite observant.” Washington replied as he nodded his head to both of the boy’s incredibly keen observations, thinking back to the training session he had witnessed before at Church’s place.

Tucker was certainly not without ability, although Washington thought he was hampered by lack of experience and training. Not to mention his huge ego.

Junior beamed at the praise thrown his way. He opened his mouth to say more when the door to Tucker’s apartment opened behind him. The boy stumbled backwards a bit, but was saved from falling by a steadying hand that rested on his shoulder.

To Washington’s surprise, it was not Tucker who had caught Junior. Rather, it was a teenaged girl with tan and freckled skin dressed in light tan and maroon clothing.

“I found you, Junior!” The newcomer smiled brightly, revealing the metallic sheen of braces in her mouth, before her eyes flashed with concern, “But you know you aren’t supposed to be out in the hallway by yourself.”

“I was just saying hello!” Junior pouted slightly, slumping his shoulders guiltily.

“Uh-huh. Right when you should be brushing your teeth too.” The girl admonished, but the smile that her face was again sporting revealed she wasn’t really mad in the slightest. “Come on and get ready for bed.” She said with a noticeable lisp as she opened the door wider and stepped to the side to give the child room to move past her, “Your dad should be home soon.”

Junior sighed, “Okay, okay.” He muttered in defeat before smiling again and waving to Washington, “Good night, mister!”

With that, he was gone. That just left Washington and the unknown girl to stand awkwardly in the hallway.

“You…just moved in, right?” The brunette said in way of a friendly greeting, “I’m Katie Jensen. I live just down the hall.”

So now he knew three of the people who lived in this apartment building. That was more than what had been the case with his last _five_ residences combined.

…Washington honestly wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet. Jensen, unaware of his conflicting emotions, continued to wait politely for his response. The blond sighed. There was no need to be rude to any of his current neighbors.

“Washington.” He said at length, “So you’re Junior’s babysitter?” He both hoped _(one could never tell with Tucker)_ and surmised, scratching his head awkwardly. Again, he and kids didn’t mix.

“When I have the time.” She was beaming again, “Junior’s sweet, and Mr. Tucker is _really_ nice once you get to know him.”

Washington wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to necessarily get to know any of the people in this building better, but Jensen and Junior both seemed harmless enough. He thought, unbidden, of Tucker’s argument with him before and of that spark in his dark eyes…

“I’ll take your word on it.” Washington assured Jensen before he turned back to his own door, opening it quickly.

*****

Richard “Dick” Simmons had gone to bed rather early. As such, the redhead found himself woken up just a few hours later by a knock on his door. He groaned and turned onto his side, not really wanting to get up just then.

Of course, he somehow managed to roll over onto his _cybernetic side_ , the metal from his arm poking painfully into his flesh. The uncomfortable position caused Simmons to wake up from his grogginess even more.

…Unhelpfully, his brain also supplied the cyborg with the information that he had yet to make up his mind about Church’s offer. He wrapped his thin sheet tightly around his body, furtively squeezing his eyes shut.

There was another persistent knock at his door. Simmons groaned again, finally willing his uncooperative body up.

Fortunately, he had worn his clothes to bed, so his concealing maroon hoodie sweatshirt covered his cybernetics from view. He just needed to remember to put his gloves on before he opened the door.

Truthfully, it was always a surprise that anyone ever knocked on his door and, while it caused him a bit of anxiety every time it happened, he usually found it to be a case of mistaken identity and nothing more.

Simmons was somewhat taken aback this time to find one of his younger neighbors, a dark-skinned teenager named Antoine Bitters, apathetically standing outside his doorway with what appeared to be a covered casserole dish in his hands.

Bitters had ridiculously dyed multi-colored hair that Simmons had never gotten the full story on, and he doubted that he would do so now as the young man unceremoniously shoved the dish into his chest. It was still warm. Simmons was suddenly reminded that he hadn’t eaten a homecooked meal in a long time.

“Mom wanted you to have it since you’re always eating convenience store food.” Bitters said in way of an explanation quickly, bored tone evident in every word.

Simmons’ face heated up at the younger man’s observation, but he took the plate anyways, “Th—thanks.”

Bitters nodded and shrugged, not even trying to mask the fact that he was using this opportunity to take a look at Simmons’ apartment. He whistled, “It looks even shittier than ours does.” He noted, raising an eyebrow, “I thought all nerds were hyper clean freaks.”

Simmons’ face burned even hotter in embarrassment at that remark, which thankfully meant that he was too flustered to really get offended. “I…I usually am more organized than this.” He said in a tiny voice, his shoulders slumping, “This is…it’s just a phase!”

…That he had been going through ever since his escape, but Bitters didn’t need to know that.

Bitters said nothing in response. He simply stood there in his tan and orange clothing, looking down at his feet instead.

Simmons couldn’t help but fidget, not used to anyone standing in his doorway for so long, “Is there something else?” He anxiously asked after the silence wore on, “I’ll be…I’ll be sure to thank your mother and return the plate soon.”

“I suppose not.” Bitters then turned to go, leaving a still confused Simmons standing there to ponder over the strange exchange.

…That was until his phone went off in his pocket.

Balancing the dish in one hand, he glanced down at his phone’s screen to note that a message had come in from Church. The details were scant, but evidently the goateed Special wanted to meet with everyone first thing tomorrow.

Simmons sighed, wondering for a second if Grif and everyone else would show. His anxiety skyrocketed to new heights as he shut the door to his apartment.

*****

This late at night, the park was rather empty. Not that Dexter Grif was really worried about muggers or anything of the like. His powers meant that he was more than capable of taking care of himself.

Two figures appeared to be waiting for him by a bench located near an abandoned playground. One of them was a tan-skinned man of frightening height and muscle. Next to him was another man who had the same air of danger, maybe even more so, despite his smaller stature and frame.

Grif could already tell that these were the type of guys one did not fuck around with. He was more than a little alarmed that they knew where he lived. Hell, in order to stage the letter they had probably gained entry into his and Kai’s house. That was scary as fuck to think about.

Still, Grif managed to keep that fear from showing on his face since showing weakness was a definite no-no. Instead, he raised a black eyebrow as the two strangers turned to meet him. Time to get this shit over with.

“You guys probably couldn’t have gotten more cliché with your choice of a meeting place if you tried.” Grif noted wryly, gesturing around them, “A park, really?”

The shorter of the two strangers smirked before replying: “You can’t really go wrong with the classics.”

Grif supposed he couldn’t really argue with that type of logic. He shrugged heavyset shoulders in what he hoped came across as an apathetic gesture.

“We should probably get right down to business, shouldn’t we?” The brown-haired man continued, “I’m Felix and the big guy here is my partner, Locus.”

Locus inclined his head slightly, but seemed to be of the mindset to let Felix do all of the talking currently.

“Our employer already knows that you have been approached by a remnant of Freelancer, so I wouldn’t play dumb if I were you.” Felix told him, brandishing a knife to flick up and down in some kind of mind trick play.

Grif’s eyes widened slightly, and he wondered just who their employer was or how much they really knew. A feeling of apprehension was building up in his stomach. He had no way of knowing if it was from this cryptic-as-all-fuck conversation or the five super-spicy burritos he had eaten on his way here. Probably a mixture of both.

“Right now, all we want from you are reports and updates on the group’s activities.” Felix said as he smirked even more, a sharp edge in his eyes, “Everything else we’ll have fun finding out on our own.”

“And I’d do this because…?” Grif asked as he tried to keep the trepidation he was feeling from showing. After all, it was best to appear almost considering and nonchalant in these kinds of situations.

“General health and wellbeing.” Felix stated cheerily, as if he was discussing the weather, “Besides, with your track record already? This would fall right in your alley. You’re kind of an asshole.”

Grif frowned, not necessarily liking the implication from either comment, though he could hardly deny the second one.

“Neither you nor your sister will be harmed if you cooperate.” Locus spoke up for the first time as if reading Grif’s thoughts, “And you will be compensated handsomely.”

Felix nodded his head, “Our employer is a _very_ rich man.” He noted before shrugging, “I don’t know. Seems like a bit of a no-brainer to me, _pal_.”

Grif couldn’t really argue with that. Besides, given the implicit threats in Felix and Locus’ oh-so-casual remarks, it wasn’t as if they were giving him too many options. He tried to not think of Church and the others, and especially not of _Simmons_ , as he reluctantly nodded his head in quiet agreement.

“Smart choice.” Felix said as he patted the orange-wearing man on the shoulder conspiratorially, “We’ll be in touch.”

Just as the two men left, Grif’s phone beeped to let him know that he had received a message. It was from Church. About a possible meet-up tomorrow.

“Fucking perfect.” Grif couldn’t help but mutter sarcastically under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot! It thickens! XD
> 
> Next up on _Specials_ : the group meets up to discuss their first real mission, with both Simmons and Tucker definitely NOT missing either Grif or Wash at first. XD Kimball gets introduced, along with The Triplets! :D
> 
> Thank you for reading this chapter! :)


	8. Chapter Seven: Enter The Triplets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Richard “Dick” Simmons carefully and quickly made his way through the city over to Leonard Church’s _“hideout,”_ though he was hard-pressed to actually call the building that since it was a house in a rather inconspicuous neighborhood. For all intents and purposes, the location was quite a bit nicer than his own shabby apartment building, if he was being completely honest with himself, despite how they were both located in the less well-to-do areas of the city.

The redhead took in a large breath of air as he reached the steps leading up to the door, glancing over his shoulders as he did so. The action had become ingrained whenever he went somewhere. Despite the urgency in Church’s message last night, nothing that Simmons could see seemed particularly out of the ordinary. He supposed that could be just him reading more into it than he should have in the first place. His anxiety often did that.

Simmons didn’t see any distinctive flashes of orange anywhere close by either and he had maybe, just maybe, even circled around that greasy diner earlier just to check. No big deal. He just wanted to make sure that Dexter Grif wasn’t up to lazy mischief again. It wasn’t like _that person’s absence_ was the reason his shoulders slumped ever so slightly in disappointment as he reached out for the hideout’s door handle.

…Nope, not at all.

The maroon hoodie-wearing man was just starting to pull the door open when it was suddenly pushed outwards from the other side, Simmons having to take two extremely long-legged steps back to avoid a collision.

“Where the fuck have you been, asshole?” A familiar-sounding voice demanded.

Kaikaina Grif stood at the entrance with a glower on her tan-skinned face and hands planted firmly on her hips. The teenager casted a very heated and sharp look of both utter annoyance and impatience his way, as if the cyborg in front of her was to blame for all of her problems.

“Er…” Simmons’ cybernetically modified brain apparently assessed that _now_ would be an excellent time to completely short-circuit, so he was left standing rather helpless under the girl’s pointed gaze.

The ire that had so succinctly suffused Kaikaina’s features melted away about a second later, however, as a vague look of recognition at his gaping mug took its place instead. “Oh, it was just you.” She stated rather indifferently as her whole demeanor relaxed and she took a step back, “Sorry about that. What’s up, nerd?”

Simmons was not sure if he should feel glad or offended by her sudden change in demeanor, but he decided to settle on _“relieved”_ now that the cybernetic equivalent he had to a heart beating in his chest had started up again.

“Um. Hey.” He greeted awkwardly as she made way for him to step into the foyer.

A precursory glance at the inside of the building informed him that no one else was there, and it didn’t take much time after that to guess why the tanned-skinned girl was waiting in the foyer on her own. No orange here either.

“Are—are you waiting for Grif?” Simmons asked her shakily, having never been comfortable talking to girls.

Kaikaina nodded, “Yeah, he didn’t come home last night.” When she saw the look of sudden concern crossing over Simmons’ features, she was quick to add, “But it’s no big deal. We’re both late to a lot of shit, but if he says that he will be somewhere? Well, he fucking will be.”

Simmons gave a quick nod of his head in understanding, “You really trust your brother a lot, huh?” He couldn’t help but note, an apology already on the tip of his tongue if he had overstepped some unaware of personal boundary by asking that question.

Kaikaina shrugged in reply, “When someone’s all you fucking have, you kind of have to.”

She said it so matter-of-factly that the redhead fidgeted awkwardly where he stood, having no idea what the appropriate response to such a candid confession was.

The girl seemed to catch on to his hesitation, “Like I said before, it isn’t really _that_ big of a deal.” She stated in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring. She fixed the cyborg with a brown-eyed, level stare, “Don’t you have someone like that?”

Simmons said nothing in response, choosing to stare uncomfortably down at the tiled floor of the foyer. He supposed his silence was enough of an answer as it was because Kai suddenly smacked him consolingly on the shoulder a bit rougher than was probably necessary, though she made no remark about the wince that followed her course of action, “Well, anyways, come on and get your scrawny ass in here! Dex will get here whenever the fuck he gets here.”

Simmons felt his face heat up at the last remark, “I—it’s not like I was waiting for him. Really!” he informed the younger Grif sibling as they walked further into the building.

He actually _heard_ Kai’s eye roll in her voice before she even did it physically, “Uh-huh. Sure.”

The cyborg opened his mouth to try and protest further when he saw a floating figure suddenly materialize at the bottom of the staircase they were approaching.

The somewhat translucent form of Sheila nodded her head in way of greeting, “If you could please go up the stairs and to the right in order to join the others in the briefing room, it would be greatly appreciated.”

Simmons was rather startled by the announcement that there _was_ a briefing room in this place, though he supposed given that this was a space that housed something as technologically complex as Sheila was and had its own training room besides, that probably _wasn’t_ too big of a shocker. Still, he put his curiosity aside to cast one last glance at the door that he had only recently stepped through himself.

Kaikaina rolled her eyes again before proceeding to shove the maroon-wearing man up the stairs, “Come on!”

There was still no sign of anything remotely orange while Simmons hastily complied with the girl’s insistent pushing and shoving as Sheila watched on in mild amusement. …He didn’t feel the least bit disappointed or worried. _Honest._

*****

Lavernius Tucker was in the process of battling what felt like a persistent headache, head resting in his hands. Shit, did he hate waking up with those things! He only glanced up at the sounds of Kaikaina, Simmons, and Sheila entering the all too crowded briefing room, figuring that he would just bum some aspirin off of Church later. The asshole fucking _owed_ him for all of this, after all!

The dark-skinned Special smirked slightly at the newcomers and waved to them in greeting, “Looks like you decided to stick around after all, huh?” He jokingly remarked to Simmons in particular, having recognized that the lankier man had also been on the fence earlier about this whole _“team”_ situation.

Simmons turned slightly red at the attention being placed on him before muttering, “This is, um, something like a trial run.”

Tucker nodded his head in understanding, “Yeah, I get you. I’m here for the same sort of shit too.”

Simmons visibly relaxed at not being criticized for how he had worded his explanation. How fucking low was the poor guy’s self-esteem anyways? He almost felt bad about teasing the guy. Not bad enough to stop, but still! Tucker then briefly wondered just how much money he would probably wind up paying Jensen for babysitting Junior while this whole _“trial run”_ lasted.

Thinking of his teenaged neighbor had Tucker suddenly recalling the girl and Junior’s accounts of running into Washington last night too. Before he could stop himself, Tucker found his eyes flicking back over to the door as if hoping that the moody, untalkative Freelancer would suddenly show up.

After all, Washington _had_ seemed mighty curious as to why Tucker had been exiting their shared apartment building again earlier that day. That is, if the gray eyes that had remained uncomfortably glued onto Tucker’s back until the elevator doors closed were any indication. But, as his staring at the unmoving door lasted for several more minutes, he had to conclude that it didn’t look like stalking was on the former Freelancer’s itinerary today.

Tucker couldn’t help but wonder if that meant that his new, rather nosy neighbor had now accepted what Church was attempting to do, or if he had just given up on trying to convince the digitally-focused Special to do otherwise. For some strange reason that Tucker couldn’t fathom, that second notion in particular really pissed him the fuck off.

Thankfully, the teal-wearing man was cut off from dwelling on his perplexing Freelancer fixation by a deep-throated grumbling off to his side.

“This had better be important with all of the fancy messages you’ve been sending us.” Sarge was busy telling Church, “I was planning on upgrading Lopez here today!”

The older man in red patted the brown-armored robot standing next to him rather jovially, though Lopez didn’t seem at all too distressed by the turn of events that had brought the two of them here instead.

“Por supuesto, puede interrumpir sus actualizaciones inútiles cuando quiera. Seriamente.” _{“By all means, you can interrupt his pointless upgrades whenever you want. Seriously.”}_

“Of course it’s fucking important, Sarge!” Church scoffed, “Why did you even sign up in the first place if you didn’t think so?”

“... No lo hagas empezar.” _{“…Don’t get him started.”}_

Lopez actually face-palmed and shook his helmeted head in exasperation when Sarge harrumphed at the question and puffed his chest out importantly, “Why, to _shoot_ things! Obviously.” He informed the cobalt-wearing man emphatically, “Not to constantly sit around and talk about our feelings like we’ve been doing.”

From where they had been conversing together on the other side of the table, Doc and Donut both looked over as one at Sarge and Church’s discussion.

“Gee, I don’t know, Sarge.” Doc spoke up with an obvious smile in his voice to match the one currently growing across his face, “You’d be surprised at how truly helpful and productive discussing emotions can be!”

“Doc’s right!” Donut piped up, causing the purple-wearing man next to him to turn to face the younger person in surprise, “It’s _extremely_ important to properly acknowledge your feelings whenever you get the chance!”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room at Donut’s outburst, only to be broken by a rather awkward-sounding cough coming from Sarge a few seconds later. “Sons, no offense meant to you,” the older man remarked, “But I personally take absolute offense to everything you both just said.”

Tucker raised an eyebrow when he saw a pout begin to form on the dirty blond’s face in particular, though whatever Donut was about to say in response was cut off by Caboose, who seemed to just now take into account everyone currently present in the briefing room.

“Tex is not here.” Caboose stated blankly, blue eyes looking almost disappointed at the realization.

Church sighed, “I know, buddy, but she had some important things to do.”

“Oh, please. I bet she just broke up with you again.” Tucker joked, wincing at the slight pain in his head when he smiled. _Worth it._

“Shut up, Tucker!” Church’s face turned slightly red and he gave his friend the finger for good measure before his hands hovered over the holographic controls of the computer built into the briefing room’s table, “The information I’m about to share with all of you came from her, as a matter of fact.”

“The scary lady is very helpful.” Caboose nodded his head as his voice lowered into a stage whisper, “Once, she even kicked a fly off of Tucker’s head.”

Tucker frowned, not sure if he would call his own memory of that event an example of Tex being _“helpful”_ so much as a constant, piss-inducing reminder never to try flirting with the black-wearing blonde again. After all, there was _still_ a huge-ass crack in the wall just a millimeter above where his head had been at the time.

Church opened his mouth to continue with what he had been trying to say earlier. The dark-haired man didn’t get very far as the door to the briefing room opened again and Dexter Grif sauntered in, much to Church’s eye-rolling chagrin at once more being interrupted. Tucker cracked a grin, risking his sinuses flaring up at amusement over Church’s predicament.

The chubby, tan-skinned man muttered a quick, _“What’s up?”_ to everyone in the room before going to stand rather lazily next to his little sister.

Tucker watched as Simmons fidgeted awkwardly in his spot on the girl’s other side, casting some unsure glances in Grif’s direction. Just as it seemed as if the redhead had worked up the courage to ask Grif where he had been, Kaikaina beat him to the punch in her own rather colorful and demanding way: “Just where the fuck have you been?”

Grif rolled his eyes, “Out.”

That seemed to be the only thing anyone was going to get out of the suddenly silent orange-wearing man, despite Kaikaina shooting him a probing, critical stare for a few more seconds. Grif expertly ignored her as if he had years of practice. Which he obviously had.

Donut chose to smile brightly in response to the newcomer, “Well, you’re just in time for the debriefing that Church was about to give us!” He exclaimed good-naturedly, “And I’m sure there will be some information passed along with it too!”

“¿De verdad tienes que decirlo así?” _{“Did you really have to word it that way?”}_

Church coughed awkwardly at Donut’s statement, “Er…thanks, Donut. I guess.” He said before activating the holographic display above the table.

There was a chorus of (some sarcastic) _“Oh’s!”_ and _“Ah’s!”_ as various maps and pictures flashed to brilliant life above everyone’s heads. Tucker suddenly found himself wanting sunglasses to help filter out the light.

“There have been several security breaches of various facilities in the supposedly _“secure”_ areas of the city.” Church continued as he filtered through the information on display at an annoyingly high speed, a smirk forming on his goateed face, “I figured this would be the perfect first mission for all of you.”

Doc and Donut both did an excited little jump just then at the exact same time, exclaiming loudly together, “Road trip!”

“I love those!” Caboose joined in happily not a second later, “May I please have a window seat?”

Tucker rolled his eyes and groaned at the sight that followed of the pink-wearing man clapping as Donut remarked, “Oh, oh! Then I get to call shotgun’s lap!”

Tucker was _definitely_ going to end up paying Jensen quite a bit in babysitting fees in the near future. Damn it. His headache increased tenfold.

*****

Since she had a rare break, Vanessa Kimball sat in her drab, austere office reviewing her most recent solved case files.

All in all, they hadn’t been anything too difficult or exceedingly dreadful. It was just that there had been a lot of them to go through in a rather short amount of time. The cases were of the _“usual”_ sort, such as husbands cheating on wives or requests to get to the bottom of a string of petty vandalism cases that the police had deemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

They kept her busy and kept her paid, which was something that she desperately needed, for more reasons than she could ever count.

For once, Kimball was rather grateful in a way for the recent absence of Specials cases on her desk, if only because she generally did those in her spare time and while off the clock. Doing _pro bono_ work often wasn’t such a good thing when there were bills to be paid. Plus, she was going to collapse if she went yet _another_ day with only an hour or so of sleep.

That wasn’t to say she didn’t have any Specials cases. Kimball frowned slightly at a file poking out from under a datapad that she had carelessly thrown over it when she had stumbled into the office earlier that day, desperate to make coffee.

The dark-skinned woman knew the details of _that_ particular case quite well. She had picked it up and glanced over it time and time again despite her brain screaming at her that she had needed to focus on actual _paying_ cases for at least a week. She moved the obscuring datapad out of the way, eyes lingering on the file and its familiar contents.

_An ongoing series of break-ins, all with an eerily similar modus operandi._

Absentmindedly, she picked up the folder and opened it, fingering the glossy photo that had nearly fallen into her lap as she did so. It was of a debris-strewn street, with burn and scorch marks littering the ground, broken chunks of rubble and shards of glass everywhere. One street sign in the left-hand corner of the picture had been ripped out of the ground and completely twisted into an undecipherable mangled ball of metal.

According to witnesses, what she was staring at was the supposed aftermath of a fight between two Specials. A battle that had occurred remarkably close by and around the same time as one of the reported break-ins. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was some kind of connection…

Her phone went off just then. Kimball frowned at the noise, figuring that it signaled the end of her break time. She closed the folder and tossed it back onto the top of the pile on her desk. She watched as the pile threatened to spill on to the ground before turning her attention to the device beeping rather intrusively a few centimeters away.

“Chorus Private Investigations.” Kimball spoke professionally when she finally accepted the call, “How can I help you?”

_“Is this Vanessa Kimball?”_ A curt, down-to-business female voice that Kimball did not recognize in the slightest asked on the other end of the line.

That in and of itself was surprising. Most of the people who called her usually ended up being repeat clients.

Kimball nodded, though she knew that the other person could not see it, “This is she.” She raised a dark eyebrow, “And you are…?”

The line went quiet for a few minutes. Kimball tapped her fingers on the edge of her desk, wondering if she should just hang up. She really didn’t need to be dealing with _another_ prank phone call, after all. But then…

_“I hear that you handle Specials cases.”_

Alarm bells went off in Kimball’s mind, and she straightened in her chair. Her investigation of Specials cases was something that she tried to keep particularly discreet given the public’s shaky view of them. She never advertised that the police came to her with particularly difficult ones, or just _why_ that was.

“How do you know that?” Kimball finally asked, surprised at how even and professional her tone still was.

_“We need to talk.”_ Was all that was said before the other end of the line went completely dead.

*****

Three figures stood side-by-side on a rooftop overlooking a rather nondescript government building across a busy city street.

One of the figures, a brown-haired man dressed in blue with white and yellow accents on his outfit, peered over the edge of the roof at the hustle and bustle going on farther below. “Oh, wow! Everyone looks like ants from up here!” The man exclaimed rather jubilantly, pointing down to the street.

The other male in the group, tan-skinned with black hair that almost flashed purple in certain lights, let out a tired sigh at the exclamation. He was also wearing blue, though his outfit was only decorated with white trim. Carefully, he put his hand on the other’s shoulder, “Don’t get too close to the edge again, Mike.” He scolded, “You remember what happened last time, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Mike’s pale face darkened slightly at the recollection, “Falling was not fun, Ezra.”

“Neither was nearly breaking my arm trying to catch you.” Ezra noted, turning to the lone woman in their midst just then, “Are we just about ready, Vera?”

The dark-skinned woman with a shock of rather dark pink hair was dressed in cobalt blue with white and rubine accents. Her attention was still pretty much entirely devoted to the building across the street from where they were standing, though she managed to spare a second to mumble under her breath, “Guys, come on! Remember our codenames?”

“Oh. Right. Er,” the two men glanced at one another before Ezra coughed and self-corrected, “Are we just about ready, Ohio?”

“I’m still Iowa, right?” Mike asked hesitatingly.

Ezra nodded.

“And you’re…?” The other man prompted gently.

“Idaho. Like I told you the last fucking time you asked.” Idaho sighed and shook his head, “I _still_ think you need to see another doctor, man.”

“Thanks for the concern, but I’m feeling as fine as ever!” Iowa supplied cheerfully.

“Right.” Idaho glanced at everyone again and asked once more, “So, are we ready or what?”

“I am! I am!”

Iowa waved his arm up and down in the air as if he were a student trying to get his name called in class, while Ohio simply sighed. Her determined, brown-eyed gaze never left their target.

Idaho frowned, “Hey, are you okay?” He asked Ohio cautiously, “You’ve been really quiet and sullen recently.”

“Yeah, way more than usual!” Iowa added in oh-so-helpfully.

Ohio finally turned her attention away from what was across the street to regard her two waiting teammates, “I’m fine, guys. Really.” She assured them, although it wasn’t said in the confident tone that they were used to.

Idaho frowned, “But…?”

“ _But_ I’m just not that sure about any of this anymore!” She admitted rather loudly, her shoulders sagging heavily with the weight of her confession.

The two men looked at one another, Idaho running a hand through his dark head of hair in frustration, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He stated, “ _You’re_ the one who told us that we needed to do whatever we could to have a reason to keep going!”

Ohio’s shoulders slumped even more at the reminder and Iowa stepped forward, “Especially after Freelancer just dumped us in the middle of nowhere.” He added softly.

“M—Mike…” She reached out to pat Iowa’s shoulder consolingly.

“Yeah,” Idaho reiterated as he watched the exchange between his friends, “At least now we _are_ doing something to prove ourselves useful. I figured you would be happiest with that.”

“I—I am!” Ohio shakily confirmed with a nod of her head, “But stealing files on Specials just seems wrong.” She frowned thoughtfully, “And why are we being told to do so anyways?”

“Like Freelancer ever told us fucking anything.” Idaho remarked, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice as he added, “Let’s just think of it as stealing the files back from the wrong hands, okay?”

“Besides, since Charon saved us, I doubt they’re going to be using them for anything bad!” Iowa stated reassuringly, flashing a bright and rather innocent smile at his teammates.

Ohio couldn’t help but smile herself at their assurances, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She told them, genuine warmth shining in her eyes, “Thanks, you two.”

“You’re welcome!” Iowa beamed back.

Ohio straightened her back, clapping her hands together as a determined look crossed over her features, “All right! Well, now that we’ve settled _that_ we might as well get things moving!”

Idaho smirked and punched her good-naturedly on the shoulder, “The real reason you were probably being all moody was because Sherry and the others are on a different mission right now, huh?” He teased.

Iowa let out a soft giggle as Ohio’s face darkened significantly with her sudden blush, “G—guys! Shut up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …Jensen is _so_ going to buy herself something really nice with all of the babysitting money she is bound to be getting soon! XD
> 
> This was the first time that I have ever written for The Triplets, so I hope that I got their characterization down okay. It was fun writing their and Kimball’s introductions in this story-verse! :D
> 
> Next time in _Specials_ : the identity of Kimball’s mystery caller is revealed (though I am guessing it probably won’t be too big of a surprise for anyone! XD), the Reds and Blues begin their mission, Simmons scolds Grif yet again, Washington is back to his old stalking/lurking habits, and we are introduced to the awesomeness that is Doctor Emily Grey! XD
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this chapter! :D


	9. Chapter Eight: Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Vanessa Kimball let out a frustrated sigh, wondering yet again if she was approaching this situation in the best manner possible.

She was currently waiting as patiently as she could for her mystery caller from before at a location they had specified. Supposedly, the unknown stranger was going to make an appearance, but she was beginning to wonder if she had accepted an invitation to a trap. Kimball’s brown eyes took in the depressing scenery around her once more as she frowned slightly, shifting her weight on the balls of her feet as she did so.

She was not at all liking the location that her enigmatic contact had insisted on meeting up in. Not only was it a rather remote and dark alleyway, but the meeting place was also located farther away from her office than she would normally care to be. Especially when potentially dangerous jobs were at hand. It said something about the context of this meeting, and potentially the mindset of the person who had arranged it, and that notion definitely caused alarm bells to go off in her mind.

The truth was that Kimball wouldn’t have agreed to this at all if her damned curiosity hadn’t gotten the better of her.

Her fingers flexed at her sides as she tried to relax by reminding herself that it wasn’t as though she were incapable of handling herself. The reality was far from that. She just tended to usually err on the side of caution and not let loose because the aftermath of such actions often made her job more difficult than it needed to be.

The wind above her head began picking up just as the dark-skinned woman started to think that perhaps this whole meeting was simply an elaborate prank and a gigantic waste of her time. Time she could have used doing what else, exactly? Pursuing _other_ dead-end leads, maybe? Getting caught up on some much-needed sleep?

Kimball glanced upwards as tufts of her hair started being pulled in the gust’s direction, bits of lightweight debris and trash also starting to dance about in the sudden upheaval.

She tried not to let the surprise show too much on her face when a woman with flaming red hair actually dropped down from the sky, landing just a few meters to her right in a rather graceful, controlled manner.

So, her contact, if this was indeed her, was a Special with the ability to fly. Judging by the way the wind that had been picked up from before was now completely gone with the newcomer’s arrival, Kimball wagered that she used some kind of Air Manipulation to do so.

The redhead, garbed in cyan, glanced over at her questioningly. Kimball felt her breath catch in her throat at how piercing the woman’s green eyes were. She had always been a bit of a sucker for piercing, stubborn eyes. Doyle had them too.

“I take it that you’re Vanessa Kimball?” The stranger asked without preamble.

A flash of amusement crossed Kimball’s face. She supposed it would be something of a mild inconvenience for the Special to have wasted such an entrance on a case of mistaken identity out in a nondescript alleyway somewhere.

Kimball nodded succinctly, “That’s right.” The private investigator crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow, “And I take it that you’re my mystery caller?”

The woman simply nodded in response, glancing one way and then the other in the alleyway as if trying to ascertain any potential threats. Her behavior did not help ease any of Kimball’s previous misgivings.

Kimball let out a deep breath that she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding until then, “Generally speaking, this is the part of the conversation when a potential client gives me a name.”

The woman ignored the suggestion, fixing Kimball once more with an unreadable green-eyed gaze, “You investigate Specials cases.” She said flatly.

Not a question. Just a clear statement of something that she clearly already knew. That was one of the main reasons why Kimball had even entertained this meeting in the first place: those who knew about her work were rather few to begin with. “It depends on the situation.” She responded, just as flatly.

The anonymous redhead stiffened, taking a step forward before halting abruptly, as if not quite certain what would be a safe distance. “I am looking for someone.” She finally said at length, eyes fixated on the ground, “An incredibly power Special. A very dangerous one.”

Kimball couldn’t keep herself from rolling her eyes just then at how aggravatingly cryptic this whole scenario was, “Well, _that_ certainly narrows the list down.”

Her sarcastic tone was not lost on the other female, her seemingly perpetual frown deepening, “You would definitely know if you ever got wind of them.” The woman in cyan stated, quietly emphatic.

For some reason, her tone gave Kimball a momentary pause in dismissing this whole matter outright. The investigator in tan-and-ice colors frowned, her mind jumping back to a photo of absolute carnage completely unbidden…

The other woman, however, seemed to misinterpret Kimball’s sudden silence as hesitation. Her stiff posture faltered and she shook her head, ponytail swinging to and fro with the motion, as an almost defeated-sounding sigh escaped her lips, “This was clearly a lapse of judgement on my part.” She said quietly once more, not quite meeting Kimball’s gaze, “I apologize for having bothered you.”

Just like that, with a distinctive upwards swoosh of air, she was floating high above the concrete ground again. Her gaze was already fixated on the sky above, her back to Kimball.

“Wait!” Kimball shouted it before even thinking clearly, her hand outstretched as if she could just reach out and grab the woman’s ankle to keep her from ascending any further.

The redhead turned back down to regard her, her expression still very much closed off and guarded.

The dark-skinned woman gave her a tiny, sort-of smile, “Maybe you should give me some actual details on the case first, before you decide that all of this was a waste of time.”

The Special still floating effortlessly in the air regarded Kimball silently for another moment, as if internally weighing the potential pros and cons of staying. At length, she silently nodded her head in agreement, feet gently touching the ground once more.

*****

“Oh, being included on Red Team for this mission is just absolutely fantastic, Sarge!” Donut exclaimed happily in a voice that was _way_ too excited and loud for what was supposed to be intel gathering, “I’m primed and ready to positively burst at any second!”

“Um, yes.” Next to him, Doc blushed somewhat at Donut’s colorful dialogue but nodded his head all the same in earnest agreement, “It is nice to be included!”

“Honestamente, podría importarme menos ya que Sheila está en Blue Team.” _{“I could honestly care less since Sheila is on Blue Team.”}_

When Sarge had discovered during the earlier mission briefing that Church had planned on splitting the group up into two different teams for the next phase of his superhero plan, he had downright insisted that his team be called Red Team for reasons that remained rather firmly rooted in his head despite curious prodding from everyone. If his wardrobe was anything to go, the older Special simply seemed to have a rather abnormally strong fondness for that particular color.

“That’s right, Lopez!” Sarge said as he puffed up his chest proudly while listening to the others’ dialogue, “Red Team is sure to triumph over those dastardly Blues!”

“...Esto ni siquiera es una puta competencia, ¿sabes?” _{“…This isn’t even a fucking competition, you know.”}_

The older man nodded his head at whatever it was that he thought his robotic creation had said before turning to face Richard “Dick” Simmons with a victorious grin suffusing his weathered features, “Darn straight! Isn’t that right, Simmons?”

The maroon-wearing cyborg had only been partially paying attention to the conversation. He blinked at the sound of his own name and quickly shook his head to dispel the intrusive thoughts that had been circling so persistently all around him.

“Tha—that’s right, sir!” Simmons hurriedly stated in agreement to whatever it was that Sarge had just said, pretty sure by the older man’s tone that was what had been expected of him.

Sarge’s wide grin of approval was enough to confirm that a moment later. Simmons couldn’t help but feel gladdened at the sight, though that couldn’t cover up the scoff that came from only a few meters away where Grif was standing.

“Suck-up.” The tan-skinned Special in orange muttered under his breath.

Simmons promptly glared at him in turn, though the chubby man seemed infuriatingly indifferent to the gesture. Doc looked on at the exchange with a sort-of amused expression clouding over his bespectacled features before he turned to focus entirely on the redheaded cyborg with a slight tilt of his head.

“Are you doing all right, Simmons?” The purple-wearing man questioned, his tone laced with concern, “You’ve been a bit out of sorts since we got to Armonia.”

All eyes were on him then, and the organic portions of Simmons’ face started to heat up. He squirmed slightly in embarrassment for having been found out. “Oh! Um…yeah, I’m totally doing all right, Doc.” He let out a nervous chuckle and inwardly hated how terrible he was when it came to trying to play things cool, “Everything’s just great. Awesome, really.”

“Eso fue doloroso de escuchar.” _{“That was just painful to hear.”}_

Simmons’ attempts at diffusing the situation went about as well as he expected, given the continued scrutiny he was currently under. He fidgeted uncomfortably under the weight of everyone’s combined gazes, green eyes peeled to the ground as he clamped his mouth tightly shut before he ended up embarrassing himself any further.

Simmons still caught sight of the all-too sympathetic glance that Donut threw his way before the dirty blond patted his stiff shoulder in what was no doubt meant to be a consoling gesture. Unfortunately, the action only made Simmons feel about ten times more flustered.

“Is it just me or is it really sort-of warm today?” Donut asked rather loudly to the others, evidently taking mercy on Simmons once his hand fell back to his side, “I don’t know about you guys, but I totally wasn’t expecting to get all hot and bothered outside like this!”

Despite the short circuit that his brain did at the pink-wearing man’s remark, Simmons couldn’t help but feel rather grateful for Donut’s commentary all the same. He let out a relieved sigh now that the attention was off of him. But, even so, the constant knot of anxiety in the pit of his stomach continued to grow with every second that they remained on the upper levels.

He knew that it was understandable, really, given how he had escaped from Armonia before. But, Simmons couldn’t help but feel frustrated by the growing sense of panic that continued to threaten to overwhelm him all the same. He glanced around at everything nervously again for what had to be the hundredth time at least, a tiny shudder escaping his body in the process.

“Here.”

The redhead started again, jolted out of his thoughts once more by Grif’s voice. He hadn’t even heard the heavyset man approach, and he wondered just how long Grif had been standing there in front of him with an unreadable look plastered on his face as he waited for Simmons to finally take notice of his presence in his personal space bubble.

Grif continued to say nothing as he continued staring at Simmons for a moment longer than was comfortable. He finally let out a sigh and dropped his gaze down to the proffered objects he had been holding in his hands the entire time.

The orange-wearing man was carrying two paper cartons of what Simmons assumed must be coffee given the familiar café logo they were sporting. He blinked once more, shocked both by the gesture in the first place as well as the presence of the beverages themselves since he hadn’t seen Grif leave the vicinity. Granted, it wasn’t like he had been paying as much attention as he should have been given the location of the mission, but...

“Where did you get coffee from?” Simmons heard himself asking as his brain seemed to land on what it felt was the most potentially _“safe”_ question to ask.

Grif smirked in response to his question, and Simmons immediately regretted asking it in the first place. “You’d be surprised at just how useful my ability can be.” He informed the redhead in a rather smug, matter-of-fact tone.

Simmons both grit his teeth and rolled his eyes at the statement, “You…you can’t just use your power on some innocent bystander to get you free coffee, Grif!” He scolded before he could stop himself.

“Ah, correction, Simmons.” Grif was quick to shoot back with a positively gleeful twinkle in his brown eyes, “Some _rich_ , innocent bystander.”

Simmons’ mouth gaped open like a fish’s, and he quickly shut it as his mind began functioning enough again to form a semi-coherent argument as to why Grif shouldn’t be so irresponsible. However, whatever sound commentary he was about to make completely floundered when Grif sighed and held out one of the coffee cups to his chest.

“Look, I’m _trying_ to be nice here and it’s a little out of my comfort zone, so would you just take this already?”

Simmons stared at Grif for a scrutinizing moment longer, noting that he did in fact appear a bit more awkward in this instance than his usually nonchalant demeanor would suggest. He felt oddly touched in a way at the thought, feeling his face heat up slightly as he shakily nodded his head in thanks and took the proffered beverage out of the other man’s hand.

In order to try and cover up the oddly conflicting feelings he was experiencing just then, he quickly downed the whole cup in one long, scalding hot swallow—trying not to notice as Grif looked on while he did so, evidently impressed by… _what_ , Simmons really had no fucking clue.

Instead of pondering Grif, Simmons tried to think about the current mission. Red Team had been scouting this general area of the city, but so far they hadn’t seen or heard of anything remotely out of the ordinary despite Church’s heated and rater loud insistence that this particular locale had been one of the spots that their apparent thieves had hit before.

“If you’re looking for something specific, I’m afraid that you won’t find very much.” A feminine, rather cheerful voice spoke up from behind the clustered group just then, “Your data thieves are surprisingly good at covering their tracks.”

“It’s a surprise attack!” Sarge yelled out, fumbling for his shotgun, “Quick, Lopez! Make yourself useful and shield us while we prepare a counter-offensive. Or, better yet, throw Grif in front first!”

“Hey!” Grif remarked with only mild heat in his voice, already apparently used to the older man’s oddly placed animosity towards him.

“Ambos planes serían ridículamente horribles si se tratara de un ataque real.” _{“Both of those plans would be ridiculously awful if this was an actual attack.”}_

“Coming in from the rear, huh?” Donut quipped, nodding his head as if he had just met a worthwhile adversary, “I can totally respect that.”

Doc was looking between Red Team and their surprise visitor as if debating on which way to run if a fight should break out, while Simmons was still honestly in a state of utter disbelief that this was a way he might possibly die.

The newcomer, a dark-skinned woman with bobbed hair, was currently regarding all of them with a terribly amused expression on her face. She smiled brightly a second later and clapped her hands together as if she had just figured something monumental out while they were still trying to collect themselves.

“You must be the contacts that Tex told me to be on the lookout for, right?” The woman said with a distinct singsong quality to her voice as she continued beaming at them rather disconcertingly, “I’m Doctor Emily Grey, and do you mind if we had a seat somewhere?” There was a knowing glint in her sharp eyes following that particular question, “I have a feeling that there’s a lot we need to discuss.”

*****

In another section of the city, the so-called (at Sarge’s vehement insistence due to Red Team’s apparently _“obvious and vast”_ superiority) Blue Team was not having much luck in regards to their own intelligence gathering attempts.

Lavernius Tucker suspected that was largely due to their complete lack of social awareness skills. All things considered, he was pretty awesome in that regard. But he knew that he was maybe, just _maybe_ , a tad distracted to be of much help right now, what with constantly checking his phone every five minutes to make sure that Jensen was still reporting everything to be fine at home. In his defense, he rarely ever went to the hoity-toity Armonia, one of the upper districts of the city. It felt like a whole other freaking country even if it was still technically part of Chorus.

Meanwhile, Kaikaina was pretty much content to hit on anything that so much as moved instead of doubling down and focusing on the task at hand. Okay, he totally could admit that he would be more than happy to do so as well, but that probably wasn’t what Church had in mind when he had said to ask questions of the locals.

Whatever. It wasn’t like the cobalt-wearing man was doing remotely better in that department of their investigation, unless sitting his ass down on a bench in front of the café they had claimed as their _“mission headquarters”_ and glaring at anyone who remotely looked their way as if he could burn holes in them counted as asking questions. Which Tucker was fairly positive it didn’t, in any fucking universe.

Caboose might actually end up stumbling onto something thanks in large part to his Special power, though currently the blond seemed content to remain close by Church’s side since the man had actually neglected to give him any other task to do. Being outside of his element definitely threw Church a bit off his mark, no matter how much he might try to deny it.

That pretty much just left Sheila on point. And, as good as the Virtual Intelligence was, she was sort of limited in how much she could really physically do by being a hologram and all. Given that they didn’t know exactly what pieces of tech would be helpful for her or Church to explore right now, she was sort-of stuck.

…So, yeah. Blue Team problems were kind of _majorly_ dampening their style right now.

Tucker finally put his phone back in his pocket _(yes, Jensen had assured him, Junior had finished his homework before asking if he could play his video games. She would keep him on his time table, no worries)_. He glanced over just as Church successfully convinced a couple to cross over to the other side of the street instead of meandering over to where Blue Team was sitting through the sheer power of his death-glare. Tucker guessed that the asshole was going to get them kicked out in about twenty minutes.

“Are you fucking positive that this part of town was hit, Church?” Tucker asked for what was no doubt the umpteenth time since they had gotten here.

His friend’s eyebrow twitched in that way it always did when he was about to have a major freak-out. He could practically see Church counting to ten in his head when he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before testily responding, “Yes, Tucker, _Tex_ was pretty sure. If you want to take it up with her, be my fucking guest.”

Tucker scoffed abruptly at the notion, “Uh, no thanks. I want for there to at least be a _tiny_ chance for Junior to have a sibling in the future.”

“However remote and miniscule that chance might be?” Church joked right back.

Tucker’s oh-so-eloquent response was an upraised middle finger. Said it all, really.

His awesome reply was no doubt why Church pointedly ignored him to let out a frustrated sigh instead, “We just have to keep combing the area for clues.”

“But, Church, what if one of us did not bring a comb?” Caboose whispered, visibly distraught as he leaned closer to Church to quietly inform him, “I am only asking because I think Tucker forgot his.”

Tucker rolled his eyes.

“Maybe actually doing something and moving your asses might help a little, you know?” Kaikaina suggested as she made her way over to the bench with her hands on her hips, “Simply lying there is never as great as people think.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Church said before pausing to grimace slightly a moment later, “Wait, what?”

“I mean, if you’re trying to conserve your energy then I can sort-of understand. But that only really applies to group scenarios or when you’re totally expecting to go all day, you know?” The younger Grif sibling continued with a slight nod of her head as if she was recollecting something, “But there’s seriously all sorts of things you can try out that are _way_ better, if you catch my drift.”

“Fuck yeah!” Tucker exclaimed in response, grinning from ear to ear.

“I do not.” Caboose said thoughtfully a moment later, “Are you talking about sports?”

“Staying active definitely helps.” The yellow-wearing Special stated matter-of-factly, “How else do you expect to keep your grip on the tennis racket while hanging from a chandelier all night?”

Caboose’s eyes went as wide as saucers then, and he turned excitedly to Church with a question already on his lips that the other man promptly cut off with an exasperated groan, “No. Never gonna happen, Caboose. You’d just fucking hurt yourself.” He told him quickly, “Besides, she isn’t talking about a game.”

Caboose pouted despondently at the news, and Kaikaina made a face in Church’s direction before speaking again, “Geeze, you’re even more of a fucking killjoy than Dex is.”

Church ignored her, now pouting himself probably due to the whole _“killjoy”_ remark. Tucker, meanwhile, was making a quick mental note to ask Kaikaina more about the chandelier and tennis racket bit for, you know, potential future reference.

“Even if you currently weren’t attempting to break your own brains with this conversation,” an all-too familiar voice cut in just then, “I think it’s highly doubtful that you’ll find anything out here.”

“Agent Washington!” Caboose exclaimed happily at his sudden appearance, waving him over exuberantly even as his trio of teammates groaned, “Over here!”

“Whoever this group is, they’re at least competent enough to cover their tracks.” The Freelancer carried on as he joined them, nodding slightly in way of greeting to Caboose in particular.

Tucker had nearly forgotten that Washington had insisted on running his own investigation alongside theirs. He rolled his eyes dramatically at the blond’s reappearance, “Oh, good. The stalker’s back.”

The exasperated shout from Washington that followed was practically instantaneous, “I am _not_ a stalker!”

“So are you a cop then?” Kaikaina quickly countered, narrowing her brown eyes at the older man in obvious suspicion.

A tired sigh followed as Washington’s shoulders slumped, “Definitely not.”

The girl continued to glare at him all the same. Washington shot a _“save me”_ look Tucker’s way, but his neighbor was far too amused to really try and help. Washington getting flustered was oddly charming in a way, considering how big and badass he always tried to be.

Church put his head in his hands and groaned while Caboose patted his shoulder comfortingly, “Now I almost wish that I was on Sarge’s goddamned team.” He muttered out between his fingers.

“Speaking of Red Team,” and here they all started a bit when Sheila suddenly appeared out of nowhere, “According to Lopez, they may have just found our first lead.”

Church’s demeanor brightened considerably at the news, his posture straightening almost immediately, “Fucking finally!” He stood up abruptly and turned to Sheila again, no doubt about to ask the transparent brown-haired woman for more details.

“Washington? Tucker?” Someone called out at that exact moment in utter disbelief, _“Church?”_

All three men in question froze suddenly at the newcomer’s readily familiar voice. Washington in particular looked oddly sheepish for being a supposed high and mighty Freelancer, and he seemed very surprised to see Tucker looking much the same when they caught one another’s eye a moment later. Their reactions were nothing compared to the cobalt-wearing man’s though, as Church looked as though he just realized that he had stepped out into a field of active landmines.

Which, to be fair, was probably rather accurate.

The cyan-wearing redhead who had spoken up took a step forward, the wind around them picking up sudden speed as she did so, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Tucker whistled despite his own sudden terror at how things were playing out, “Uh-oh. Looks like you’ve been busted, dude.” He muttered over to Church, who glared his way with a look that could have burnt holes into him.

Church’s big sister, on the other hand, continued to stare at them in shock and anger from where she was standing across the street next to an unknown dark-skinned woman. Judging from Carolina’s green-eyed glare, the _“burning holes”_ stare was hereditary.

All things considered, Tucker _so_ wouldn’t want to be in Church’s shoes.

*****

As it turned out, Emily Grey was a doctor at a nearby hospital here in Armonia.

“I was first approached by a trio of colorful individuals following a particularly grueling shift. Back-to-back emergency surgeries, hardly enough sedative to go around. You know how it is.” She informed Red Team chipperly enough, taking a sip of tea from the cup that Doc had provided her with earlier.

Everyone around the café table glanced at one another. None of them, in fact, had any idea what that was like. Simmons had the distinct feeling no one wanted to know, either.

The group had settled at an outdoor café to listen to her story, Doc and Donut having been kind enough to get drinks for everyone even though Lopez only glared at his beverage as if it had personally affronted him. The robot seemed downright distraught at the notion that Donut might take it away though, causing the younger pink-wearing man to mutter something along the lines of _“obviously conflicting feelings”_ to a Doc who merely nodded his head in understanding. Lopez’s sigh in response was applause-worthy.

“Anyways,” she carried on once it was apparent that none of them were going to interject any commentary of their own into her tale, “They claimed to be working for a group who described themselves as _“benefactors”_ for Specials, and they asked to see any medical records we had related to cases involving them.”

Doctor Grey set her cup down carefully, tapping its rim with her finger, “Naturally, that situation drew all sorts of alarm bells. Their request was rightly denied.” Her lips pursed into a thoughtful frown, “Everyone on staff assumed the matter to be closed, only for those very same records to go inexplicably missing just a few weeks later.”

Thievery of information directly related to Specials. Simmons shuddered slightly at the potential implications, looking over at Grif to see the chubby man frowning as well. When Grif noticed him looking his way, he raised a questioning eyebrow in Simmons’ direction. The redhead quickly turned his head away, hoping the sudden heat on his cheeks wasn’t too obvious visually at least.

“I had been doing my own bit of investigating into similar thefts since then, which is how I ran into Tex.” Doctor Grey recounted, “As we seemed to be gathering intel on linked cases, we both figured that it would probably be prudent in the long run to work together.”

Sarge let out a low whistle of appreciation, “Your tenacity is mighty impressive, little lady!”

Grey smiled, slight splotches of color momentarily darkening her cheeks, “I just can’t let doctor-patient confidentiality violations slide.”

“But what could they possibly want with the medical records of potential Specials?” Doc mused out loud contemplatively from his spot sitting rather close to Donut at their crowded table.

A heavy silence filled the air as the group quietly pondered over their own answers to that question. Simmons had a very large suspicion that they were all dwelling on less-than-pleasant scenarios. “Do you have any idea who these people might be, Doctor Grey?” He finally worked up the nerve to ask when he couldn’t take the wholly horrific possibilities that his mind was making up anymore.

“I’m afraid not.” Grey said as she shook her head regrettably, “They gave the hospital fake names.”

Red Team’s collective shoulders all slumped dejectedly at this latest development, feeling as though their first promising lead had ended up taking them nowhere.

The doctor in white and purple took in their disappointment and smiled encouragingly all the same, “But I _can_ actually help you out still.” When she was absolutely certain that her remark had caught their attention once more, she elaborated even further with an anticipatory gleam in her brown eyes, “After all, I know their next target’s location.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who guessed that Kimball’s mystery caller would end up being Carolina because I’m predictable like that? You get a virtual cookie if you did! XD Writing her and Grey into the story was rather fun. :)
> 
> I do believe this chapter contains the most innuendos by Donut in one update that I have ever written. Fun times, that. :) I maybe enjoy writing him and Kai’s dialogue a tad too much. XD
> 
> Next time in _Specials_ : Church gets a bit of a talking-to from Carolina; Washington can’t really escape the _“stalker”_ commentary EVER and has a rather enlightening convo with Carolina only to get surprised by Tucker; the Triplets think they may have gotten away scot-free again on their mission only to have some surprise reunions; plus, Grif is totally tired of fighting already and would tell you that he is no way at all sporting a massive crush on Simmons (denial!). XD
> 
> Thank you to everyone who reads this fic! I hope you enjoyed the update! :D


	10. Chapter Nine: The Freelancer Lifestyle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

“I cannot _believe_ that you would do something so reckless and foolhardy just because you were left alone for five minutes, Church.”

Carolina was practically breathing fire as she testily spat those words out at her little brother. It was beyond apparent that the redheaded former Freelancer was more than just a tad peeved by Church’s decision to create his own team of crime-fighting Specials without bothering to tell her. Even her body language as she glared at him was even more rigid and uncomfortable-looking than normal.

There was no mistaking that she was pissed as Carolina’s arms crossed over her chest in what was a rather intimidating manner. She tapped an impatient rhythm into the ground so furiously that Lavernius Tucker was shocked a smoking hole hadn’t appeared beneath her feet. The redhead looked for all the world like a cornered animal who was definitely leaning more towards the _“fight”_ side of the spectrum.

_Fuck._ Carolina was terrifying even on the days that could have almost counted as her being downright cordial. As for right now? Well, Tucker had to really hold himself back from stepping away slowly and cautiously from the redhead. No sudden movements or eye contact though. That’s when she’d probably strike.

Still, his self-preservation instincts didn’t prevent Tucker from scoffing rather derisively all the same at her declaration, “Uh, are you sure about that, Carolina?” He joked rather uneasily, “Because that sounds _exactly_ like something Church would go and do.”

Church fixed Tucker with his usual death glare, an expression that wasn’t nearly as intimidating as the asshole thought it was, “Shut up, Tucker, you aren’t helping.”

The dark-skinned man raised an eyebrow in mild amusement at his cobalt-wearing friend’s response, “That’s because I wasn’t trying to, dude. Duh.”

The joking camaraderie between them dissolved into a wall of sudden fear for both men as Carolina turned to Tucker. He let out a totally manly _“Eep!”_ of terror then and _did_ actually take two steps backwards because Carolina’s death glare could very well melt someone’s insides.

“Don’t even start, Tucker.” She told him rather emphatically, the muscles in her arms twitching as if she was resisting the urge to reach out and violently shake some sense into him too, “You are being just as phenomenally stupid as Church is. Even more so since _you_ have a son to think about.”

Tucker hung his head rather guiltily at that, having debated his decision to help Church out well and truly into the ground already, “…You think I don’t know that?” he muttered glumly, his eyes suddenly glued to the pavement.

Carolina’s expression softened marginally at his unexpected reaction, but whatever she might have said in response was lost by Church suddenly growing something of a backbone in his sister’s presence as he rounded on her with his own rather-pathetic-by-comparison death glare still in place, “What about _you_ , huh?” he demanded angrily, “How come it’s okay for _you_ to be constantly risking your life to pick up the pieces of goddamned Freelancer but not us?”

Carolina blinked, apparently taken aback by the obvious frustration that had bubbled out of the dark-haired male. She shifted her posture slightly, and Tucker _almost_ got the impression that a part of her deep down was _tired_ , but the frown that settled over her features a second later effectively masked her fatigue. “That’s…different, Church.” She managed to get out at length.

“Oh, yeah?” Church scoffed, “Just _how_ is it any fucking different, sis?”

Green eyes narrowed dangerously just then, and Tucker instinctually took another cautious step backwards…

Only to end up with his back pressed right up against Agent Washington’s chest. Tucker nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt the blond-haired man’s hands no doubt instinctively wrap around his shoulders in a tight grip to prevent him from stumbling. The crazy ex-Freelancer dude had been so damn quiet earlier that Tucker had nearly forgotten he had opted to stick around for Carolina chewing her baby brother out.

“Moving things along,” Washington started, and Tucker flinched slightly in his grip because the asshole’s breath was tickling the back of his neck, “Who is the woman that you’re with, Carolina?”

The question gave Carolina a momentary pause as she cast her eyes over to the outside of the alcove that the four of them were currently standing in. Her gaze went out to where the dark-skinned woman in question was no doubt chumming it up with the rest of Church’s group and their tagalong Doctor Emily Grey as the group staked out the building that Grey was fairly positive their file thieves would be targeting next.

“You mean Vanessa Kimball?” Carolina asked Washington, not even waiting a moment for his barely perceptible nod before answering, “She’s a private investigator who deals primarily with cases involving Specials.”

“Huh. Sounds like someone _you_ in particular might want to get in cahoots with.” Sarge’s voice informed Church matter-of-factly.

The small group of four turned back to the mouth of the alcove then. Washington’s hands quickly fell from Tucker’s shoulders, a blush appearing on his freckled face at having realized just how long he had subconsciously been gripping onto the dark-skinned man in teal.

Sarge was indeed standing there, arms crossed over his chest in a similar way to Carolina as he regarded the four people in his midst with rather obvious disinterest.

Church frowned at the older man in red’s interruption, “Shouldn’t you be on watch?”

Sarge harrumphed at the question, brown eyes glancing over his shoulder as he did so, “The other fellas have got that covered.” He informed them, his mouth pressing into a thin line the second he turned his head back as he pointedly remarked, “Besides, all of the claptrap going on over here doesn’t exactly leave much room for stealth, now does it?”

Washington looked surprisingly impressed by the older man’s observation and mild admonishment, “You’re actually right about that.”

Sarge harrumphed once more, clearly annoyed by Washington’s surprised tone, “Don’t go acting all shocked now, son.”

“Whatever.” Church rolled his eyes in aggravation before directing his attention to Washington in particular, “We definitely don’t need any input from a fucking stalker.”

Washington let out a sigh of extreme exasperation, while Carolina raised a red eyebrow in his direction rather curiously, “What is _that_ about?” She asked her former Freelancer comrade.

Washington decidedly ignored her query to fire back at Church, ‘I am _not_ a stalker, okay?!?” Then he quickly elaborated further, “I just followed all of you out of concern. That’s all.”

There was a rather heavy, abrupt pause at the blond’s declaration before Sarge broke it with an awkward clearing of his throat, “Son. That sounds like the very definition of stalking to me.”

“I hate you all.” Washington muttered under his breath, shoulders sagging in absolute defeat.

Tucker almost, _almost_ felt bad for the poor guy, so he decided to at least show him a small modicum of mercy by changing the topic from his denial over his rather obvious lurking tendencies. “So, what are you guys going to do then?” He asked both Carolina and Washington following his own prolonged sigh, “Are you going to help us out, try to shut us down, or…?”

The man in steel and yellow frowned thoughtfully at his question, “My initial goal to keep an eye on you guys and make sure things don’t get out of hand remains the same.” He informed them, pointedly ignoring a cough from Church that most definitely sounded like _“Stalker!”_ under his breath.

Still, Washington cast a grateful look Tucker’s way, clearly relieved for the topic change. Tucker quickly averted his gaze away from the man’s face to cover up his oddly sudden loss of breath because _fuck_ , did that type of expression look good on the former Freelancer.

Carolina’s posture softened a fraction as she seemed to relent on her position ever-so-slightly, “You _have_ come this far already, so I suppose I can give you the benefit of the doubt just this once in order to see what your _team_ is capable of.” She gave a curt nod in the direction of their target building across the way, “Besides, I’m curious myself about who has been going after these files.”

“Hmph.” Sarge relaxed his stance considerably following this turn of conversation, “Seems like things are scheduled to go as planned then.”

The red-wearing man promptly turned back around to rejoin the others at their stakeout, Tucker and Church hurrying to do the same not a moment later. However, Tucker halted in his steps only a meter or so away when two quiet voices continued conversing behind him.

*****

Once the trio had left, David Washington took the opportunity that the subsequent blissful silence afforded him to regard his former leader.

If it was at all possible, Agent Carolina somehow looked even _more_ haggard than he currently felt, which could only mean that she had been pursuing whatever it was she now viewed as her mission rather relentlessly and without fail.

Knowing that, especially in light of Project Freelancer’s fall, was more alarming than Washington would likely ever care to admit.

The blond swallowed thickly, ignoring the sudden spike in his nerves at that realization as best he could, “What kind of leads are you following?” Washington asked, still assessing her carefully, “Because something tells me that you haven’t _just_ been chasing after Charon like Tex has.”

Carolina stiffened once more, causing Washington to realize that he had been close to the mark with his estimate. He also wondered and hoped that he hadn’t overstepped his bounds by mentioning Tex, knowing full well how complicated things were, to put it rather mildly, between the cyan-wearing woman and her brother’s on-and-off-and-we’ve-already-lost-count-again girlfriend.

It wasn’t enough to get the always cautious Carolina to completely shut the conversation down, at any rate. “You might be right about that, Wash.” She admitted rather cryptically instead, evidently deciding not to elaborate any further.

Washington sighed heavily. He got it, okay? The rookie of Project Freelancer had always been left out of the loop before, especially in situations where it was probably vital he _hadn’t_ been. It had sucked back then more than he had ever wanted to admit to the others, and it had left him hurting more than he would _ever_ let anyone else know now.

But now? Now, he damn well wasn’t going to put up with it if he could prevent it.

“So I’m guessing that what you’re going after has even _more_ to do with Freelancer than even stolen tech or files do.” He surmised, not batting an eye.

Carolina said nothing in response, but when her eyes narrowed slightly he knew that he had hit the mark again.

“You don’t have to do everything on your own, Carolina.” Washington told her quietly, “You never did.”

…They were supposed to be a fucking _team_ , after all. Even though looking back on everything now made him want to bitterly laugh over that so-far-from-the-truth sentiment, it didn’t mean they couldn’t at least _try_ to act that way now.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Wash.” Carolina’s voice was so quiet that he almost hadn’t even heard her, but the icy expression clouding over her features that contrasted so sharply with the sheer, burning hatred in her green eyes said it all, “Freelancer was _his_ mess, and I’m going to be the one to pick it up.”

Her voice left no room for argument or debate on the subject, and he found himself shakily nodding his head and even taking a step back out of reflex.

She let out a huff of air in frustration a second later, “Besides,” she admitted rather reluctantly, “It’s not like I have any definitive proof yet that it’s around still, and…”

The way she worded her statement caused the growing knot of nerves that Washington had been feeling to grow into trepidation, “Just _what_ are you searching for?” The gray-eyed man asked, knowing he would probably regret hearing the answer.

Carolina stared at him in a rather assessing manner for a few moments before responding, “You really don’t want to know.”

While he greatly suspected that to in fact be true, the other former Freelancer felt a sharp spike of frustration at how quickly Carolina had once again brushed him off. Hadn’t _any_ of them learned from what had happened back with Freelancer? He had actually _tried_ letting go of some of his lingering anger and resentment too by reaching out to someone he felt he should still try to consider a friend…

Once again, all _that_ had done was still leave him woefully in the dark and feeling immensely foolish. No doubt the other shoe would eventually drop, like it had so painfully done before.

Washington’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he clenched his hands into fists at his sides, “I am _beyond_ tired of people telling me that.”

Carolina’s face took on a momentary look of surprise at the bitter sharpness of his words before it morphed into an oddly regretful expression. The redhead opened her mouth to speak, holding out a hand to him at the same time.

“Wash…” The cyan-wearing woman began, but he was already turning his back to her. Whatever else she might have tried saying died on her lips as he saw her hand falling uncertainly back down to her side out of the corner of his eye.

“Yo.”

Washington blinked, caught off-guard by the greeting to his right as he exited the alcove, not expecting anyone, let alone his new neighbor Tucker, to be waiting there.

He grimaced, wondering just how much of the exchange the teal-wearing Special had overhead, already feeling exhausted at the thought of having to explain or cover up for himself yet again.

But, Tucker surprised him once more, something it seemed he was always doing when least expected to, by moving away from the wall he had been leaning against and choosing to say instead: “We better get a move on if we want to catch up with the others.”

Washington nodded, rather relieved for Tucker’s incredible display of discretion at that moment. He stepped in line behind Tucker to follow him, his gray eyes never leaving the other man’s back as an equally silent and rather tense Carolina followed suit a few seconds later.

Tucker waited a good minute before the dragging, infuriatingly heavy silence got the better of him and he let out a low whistle, “Well, _this_ is going to turn out to be a fucking awesome team-up.”

*****

“See? We ended up getting the files in no time flat!” Idaho remarked happily as the Triplets made their way to the side exit of the building, a route that they had already determined was going to be their escape, “It was a fucking piece of cake!”

At the blue-with-white-trim-wearing man’s remark, Iowa glanced up hopefully, “Oh, there was cake?” he asked with gleeful curiosity.

Idaho patted Iowa’s arm, “Nah, but let’s see if we can’t score some after we make the drop-off.” He replied condolingly.

“I just like to lick the icing off.” Iowa admitted rather sheepishly, poking at the blue with white and yellow accents that covered his arm.

The tan-skinned man rolled his eyes before he reached over and grabbed his teammate by the elbow gently to keep his distracted mind from slowing his pace any further, “I know, Iowa, but that was still a dick move to lick the icing off of my entire birthday cake.” Idaho told his friend matter-of-factly.

The brown-haired Iowa frowned in recollection of that particular birthday incident, “But I made you a new one.”

“And you used salt instead of sugar, buddy.” Idaho stuck out his tongue as he remembered biting into the replacement cake in question.

“It still had sprinkles though!”

Feeling as though the conversation had completely gone off the rails, Idaho sighed and glanced over his shoulder at their unusually quiet third partner dressed in cobalt blue with white and rubine. Normally, she would be telling them exactly what to try and do to make their exit as flawless as possible, even if the actual event never went the way she planned at all.

“You doing all right back there, Vera?” He called out to her, hoping to drag her back into the conversation.

She promptly made a face at his slipup, “Codenames!” Vera reminded him with a hiss of exasperation.

“Right. Sorry.” Idaho rolled his eyes but seemed a bit relieved to have her momentarily back to her usual reprimanding self, “You doing all right, _Ohio_?”

The dark-skinned woman nodded in response, patting the inner pocket of her outfit where she had stored the data stick containing the files they had just pilfered, “Yeah, and I guess you were right about this job going smoothly too.”

He nodded his head in agreement, “Helps knowing when places are going through maintenance.”

Ohio really couldn’t argue, especially since having only a skeleton crew of employees on the grounds made sneaking in and retrieving what they had come for _that_ much easier. Not having to worry so much about what to do if they were caught was great, especially since Iowa hated knocking someone out and it wasn’t as if she or Idaho were particularly keen to do so either. Plus, it really helped keep her mind off of the whole _“Were they doing the right thing here?”_ debate for a little while longer. The trio vaulted down the emergency stairs about four at a time, eager to make their escape.

“Now we just need to focus on a clean getaway.” The pink-haired woman informed her cohorts, praying that part would also be easy.

Idaho laughed as the backdoor came into view, propped partially open by a rock that Iowa had picked up earlier from who-knew-where, “Shouldn’t be too much of an issue, I think!”

Ohio frowned, almost wanting to caution her friend against being _too_ cocky. But, the general good mood swirling through the air right then was far too infectious for that. “That cake better be vanilla.” She informed Idaho cheerily instead.

“Uh, forget you! It’s totally going to be chocolate.”

“Whoo-hoo! Cake!” Iowa cheered, eyes lighting up in eager anticipation.

They were down the stairs just a few moments later, Ohio noticing that the control panel next to the door was still sparking away as rivulets of water dripped down the plastered wall below it. They had left various other panels exactly like that throughout the building, a telltale sign of their entering.

“It was helpful disabling the security systems this time instead of just trying to sneak past them.” Ohio noted, absentmindedly running a gloved finger through the small water trail.

“Yeah,” Idaho wholeheartedly agreed, “That had been such a pain in the ass on our last gig.”

“But it made us seem even _more_ like ninja!” Iowa protested.

His two friends smiled over at him before patting his shoulders and making their way through the door. As they stepped into the back alleyway, Ohio’s spirits soared even higher at the thought of a job well done and the prospect of cake. Maybe, just _maybe_ , if they ran into them while handing over the data, they could invite those three guys over too. There was a sudden warmth on Ohio’s face at the idea of inviting _Sherry_ in particular over for cake. After all, the last time they had discussed Iowa’s baking endeavors, the other woman had said it was a shame that things hadn’t panned out because she could totally lick icing off of the tip of her nose and…

_“Hey! Stealing is a crime, you know!”_ An unfamiliar male’s voice shouted just then at the trio, interrupting her thoughts.

Ohio’s shoulders slumped at the sudden exclamation, “Dang it.” She muttered under her breath. She just _knew_ that operation had been running too fucking smoothly!

*****

“Fucking _really_ , Doc?” Church looked over at the purple-wearing man in obvious exasperation over his outcry to the three criminals they had just caught leaving the targeted building, “That’s _really_ the first thing you choose to shout at them?”

“Well, it _is_ true.” Doc replied back rather lamely, his face turning quite red in embarrassment behind his purple-framed glasses.

“He’s right, you know!” Donut helpfully supplied from where he was standing close by, “And it’s extremely important to really _drive_ that point home until it hits that magic sweet spot!”

“I get it.” Church grimaced at Donut’s choice of words, while Doc simply looked both surprised and touched by the dirty blond’s defense of his action.

“I’m talking about _really_ driving it in repeatedly nonstop again and again, until they’ve become a quivering mess on the floor who are completely and utterly sated by your sheer prowess.”

“Holy shit.” Church said as he stared at Donut. It was really all Church could think to reply with. Dexter Grif just decided to stay as silent as possible, although he did mutter a _“Phrasing, Donut.”_ under his breath.

“Creo que perdió el hilo de esa comparación hace un rato.” _{“I think he lost the thread of that comparison a while ago.”}_

Whatever Lopez had said in response to Donut’s continued defense of Doc’s opening statement was lost when Kai decided to throw her two cents into the conversation. The tan-skinned girl raised an eyebrow, “Sounds pretty hot.” She informed Donut before tilting her dark head of hair down in the direction of the three trespassers they had blocked from leaving the alleyway, “Does that mean we’re having an orgy with these guys then or what, because I totally didn’t bring enough condoms or lube for everyone in that case.”

“Fuck yeah!” Tucker whistled appreciatively and gave her a triumphant high-five, “That’s what I’m talking about! _Bow-chicka-bow-wow_!”

Washington stared over at Tucker incredulously, “Really?”

Grif felt his eyes starting to twitch at his little sister’s antics, “Goddamn it, Kai!”

The yellow-wearing Special merely stuck her tongue out at him before grinning once more, “Oh quiet, bitch.”

“Are we going to be standing here all day getting embarrassed by Grif’s sister?” Sarge asked as he shook his head in surprising agreement with Grif, of all people, just then. The orange-wearing man felt his annoyance begin to rise even more at the distinct mumblings of how the world must be coming to an end soon, although he felt no desire to ask the older man to speak up since he was holding his shotgun close to his chest.

Tucker’s only response was a cheeky grin and an eyebrow waggle, causing Washington to promptly groan and shake his head right alongside Sarge.

The dark-skinned woman who had introduced herself earlier as Vanessa Kimball gave an unsure, shaky sort-of smile to Carolina as the two women stood a little off to the side from everyone else, “They’re a rather lively bunch, huh?”

The redheaded female merely frowned in response, definitely looking far from impressed by the group’s antics so far, “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Well, considering that you evidently didn’t bring along enough supplies to pass around to everyone, I’ll have to ask you to put your orgy plan on hold for the time being.” Doctor Grey added in to the conversation by giving medical advice to both Tucker and Kai, “Safe sex is _extremely_ important from a health stance for a myriad of reasons, and…”

Grif sighed and shook his head, not sure how to process all of the craziness that was currently going on around him. Leave it to his sister to bring up an orgy of all things during a confrontation with potentially dangerous thieves, and for the subsequent way the conversation evolved from there to brain-break quite a few people—himself being dangerously close to being included in that number. Kai had a gift when it came to stunts like that, he thought with a sigh. Now if she could only use her talent wisely and not for evil.

His brown-eyed gaze landed on an extremely red-faced Simmons standing by his side, fidgeting awkwardly and apparently utterly fascinated with the drawstrings of his maroon hoodie at the moment. Grif couldn’t stop himself from grinning at the sight. The cybernetic nerd was surprisingly cute when flustered, to say the least.

…Maybe Kai did have a knack for using her gift for good, now that he thought about it. Even if it was totally unexpected on her end.

It was, shockingly enough, Caboose who put things back on track. “But, Church,” he remarked rather emphatically, clutching at his _“best friend’s”_ arm as he did so to gain his attention, “Stealing _is_ a crime!”

“Aw, gee!” Doc almost looked as though he was going to cry at any second as he looked over at Donut and Caboose appreciatively for their support, “Thanks so much, guys! I’m just so—!”

“That’s right, Caboose!” Doctor Grey was quick to get back to the matter at hand as she excitedly talked over Doc to tilt her head in the direction of the rather stunned thieving trio before them, “And those three are definitely the ones who stole the medical records from the hospital.”

“Judging by how quickly they vacated this facility following the security systems going offline, I believe they have stolen from here as well.” Sheila added in from where her translucent hologram of a body was floating above everyone else’s heads.

That sobered things up rather quickly. Grif frowned, casting his gaze over to assess the three figures who were slowly starting to get over their own shock at the discussion they had just witnessed. They didn’t seem all _that_ threatening upon first glance, but Grif was well aware from personal experience just how much appearances could be deceiving.

He looked back at Kai to make sure that she was still a few steps farther back like she had been before just to be on the safe side. For some reason, his arm shot out a split-second later in order to get Simmons to do the same.

“Grif?” Simmons asked, the cyborg looking just as shocked and perplexed by the heavyset man’s actions as Grif was inwardly feeling before he pointedly fixed his gaze back on the blue-wearing thieves when it became apparent the orange-wearing man wasn’t going to address his question.

“Ah!” The female of the group, who was sporting pink hair just a few shades darker than what Donut wore, reacted first, her finger pointed wildly in Doctor Grey’s direction as recognition fell across her startled face, “It’s that crazy doctor lady from the hospital!”

Sarge frowned, stepping next to the dark-skinned woman in question with a surprisingly courteous tilt of his head in her direction, “That is no way to talk about a lady.” He stated reproachfully, reprimanding the woman for her admittedly accurate description.

But the unknown woman was already fixated on others in their mismatched group, brown eyes widening as they landed on the goateed man in cobalt in particular, “Ch—Church?!?”

Church looked just as stunned as she did, his eyes widening considerably in dawning awareness when he realized that he also knew who she was, “No fucking way.” He muttered in a tone that practically screamed _“Oh, fuck me.”_

“What are you…?” The pink-haired female’s question trailed off as her eyes landed on the two Freelancers in their midst, “Carolina, too?” She gaped in recognition, “And…and _Wash_?!?”

“Ohio.” Washington’s voice had risen in surprise as well. The blond took a shaky step forward as he inclined his head towards each and every one of the thieving trio, “Iowa. Idaho…”

Carolina stopped Washington by putting a hand on his shoulder. He cast a questioning, downright tortured look her way, but she merely shook her head as the apparently perpetual frown on her face deepened.

Grif raised an eyebrow at all of their shocked reactions, “So, are they friends of yours or something?” Figured they’d get pulled into Freelancer shit on their first mission.

One of the males of the trio, the black-haired man apparently named Idaho, scoffed at the question, “Or _something_.” He repeated in answer with an angry, mocking sneer.

Washington looked absolutely stricken at the remark while Tucker frowned and glanced from the former Freelancer over to Church with a questioning look in his eyes that clearly demanded some more elaboration on what was going on.

“They’re the Triplets.” Church finally informed the Reds and Blues rather shakily, without further explanation beyond, “From Project Freelancer.”

“Man, you know the _weirdest_ people.” Tucker told his friend succinctly before he remembered that Carolina and Washington were both standing behind him, “Uh, no offense.”

“Offense, asshole.” Church muttered to the teal-wearing Special.

“Yay,” Caboose exclaimed, practically jumping up and down in obvious anticipation, “That means we will have even more new friends!”

Washington swallowed thickly, pulling away from Carolina’s steadying grip, “What…what are you doing here?”

Ohio, the woman of the trio in question, glared angrily at him. The expression caused Washington to become even more startled and even take a half-step back, “Like you don’t know what happened to us!” She yelled out, as if increasing the volume hit home her point.

As the Reds and Blues became further confused, the two former Freelancers and Church looked absolutely bewildered at Ohio’s vehement declaration.

“M—maybe they didn’t.” The man in blue with white and yellow named Iowa stated in an unsure, shaky voice upon seeing their reactions, “Wash especially was never like that.”

“Big deal.” Idaho was glowering at the former Freelancers just as steadily as Ohio, “They should have been able to put two and two together, Mike.”

“Codenames!” Ohio reminded him with what sounded to be habitual exasperation.

“What are you talking about?” Washington’s voice sounded surprisingly urgent just then as he took two large steps forward towards the Triplets, as if he was hoping to understand them through proximity alone.

“Doesn’t matter. We don’t have time to talk now anyway.” Ohio informed the blond, fists clenching tightly at her sides, “You guys just better get out of our way!”

Church, despite still being visibly shaken himself by this turn of events, shook his head emphatically at her warning, “Not until you tell us what you want these files for. Also, you need to hand them over to us.”

The three former Freelancer agents known as the Triplets looked towards each other before sharing a brief nod as if deciding on something all at once. Grif did not have a good feeling about that shared gesture, and his grip on Simmons tightened momentarily in fearful anticipation. Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone.

“Fine.” Ohio stated, raising her arms up over her head as she did so, “Have it your way then!”

Suddenly, a massive wall of water materialized between the two groups from apparently out of nowhere, crashing down onto the ground where everyone had been standing rather violently and causing them all to scatter.

_Shit._ Figured they were dealing with other Specials too if they had been connected to Project Freelancer.

Grif sighed to himself as he saw the newly made hole in the thick brick-and-concrete ground just a few meters away from where he had been only moments before, remembering just why it was that he always considered fighting to be such a hassle. Church was _such_ an asshole for starting this group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, I got a little carried away with the dialogue in the fourth part of this chapter: Donut and Kai just do that. :D Also, poor Wash is never going to get the guys to let go of the whole “stalker” bit. XD
> 
> This was only my second time ever writing for the Triplets, so I hope I continued to do their characters justice! I kind of want to adopt Iowa along with Caboose and Loco, not going to lie. :D
> 
> Next time in _Specials_ : we get our first actual fight scene barring a sparring match in this story! :D Haha, it seems like that took a really long time to get to considering this is a Superhero AU but, oh well, I like my slow burns and setups too much, I suppose. XD Hopefully it will be a decent one! Also, more character interactions and some neat little relationship moments will be had too. I will also FINALLY be introducing Sherry, Darryl, and Terrill into the mix too. :D They are other characters I have never written for before but are quite fond of, so hopefully I will also do them justice! :D
> 
> I may actually be posting the next chapter next week since I’m wondering if it might be a good idea to write at least two updates for a WIP before switching over to another one since I know how long it often takes for me to finally update something. Since I have so many WIPs at the moment, it is always just a single chapter for before the whole cycle continues again and I feel like that becomes a long break in-between chapters for these fics. Plus, it might help my mind stay in one story’s universe a bit longer too and help me with writing them at a better pace in general. I guess we’ll see how it will go, but let me know if you think that might be a good approach to take from here on out!
> 
> Thank you, as always, for reading! :D


	11. Chapter Ten: Turf Wars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

Well, as far as first missions went, Richard “Dick” Simmons supposed theirs could have turned out better. Granted, he supposed it could have also gone a whole lot worse, but it wasn’t as if he had prior experiences he could compare it to. _Totally beside the point_ , he thought grimly as another wave of water came careening towards the Reds and Blues in the hopes of scattering the group even further.

Simmons was grateful that whoever had decided to force these cybernetic upgrades upon him had the common sense to make them waterproof, even if their whole _“kidnapping teens from the street to experiment on them”_ idea had been a phenomenally bad one.

He hadn’t even thought of its benefit in this particular fight scenario against a trio of Specials who all seemed equally adept at generating and manipulating large quantities of water, truthfully. The reality was, being as fixated on personal hygiene and cleanliness as he had always been, after his abduction Simmons had just been relieved that he could actually shower without any unforeseen complications.

…Seriously, what had he been thinking when he had agreed to join Church’s ragtag team?

While Simmons was more or less preoccupied with contemplating his current life choices, Donut stepped forward in-between the Reds and Blues and the rather intimidating wall of rushing water. The dirty blond held his arms out in front of him, and what appeared to be an orb of pulsating pink _(of course)_ energy suddenly enveloped the younger man.

The forcefield grew in size around Donut until it effectively filled up the rather large alleyway on either side of it, the wave of rushing water smashing violently against it a second later.

_“Whew!”_ Donut let out an appreciative whistle at the sheer force that he was more or less effectively blocking, a few tendrils of liquid spillover notwithstanding. The pink-wearing man even took a step backwards, though he quickly remedied that action by pushing back against the water with his field all the more, “Talk about a big hole to plug, but no worries, guys! When it comes to stuffing, I am totally your man!”

“TMI, dude. TMI.” Tucker informed him as the water receded and Donut promptly powered down.

“Aw, that’s no fair!” The former Freelancer in blue with white and yellow accents named Iowa whined, “They cheated!”

“Oh, I do not like cheaters either.” Caboose intoned rather seriously from his spot standing next to Sheila.

Simmons frowned at the sight of their spread out group. Hadn’t Church been there before too? But, suddenly, there was a surge of code along the bottom of his cybernetic eye’s vision display and he could make out a faint glow heading in the Triplets’ direction.

The glow seemed to faintly resemble when Church had activated his power at his apartment back when they had first met. Simmons frowned at the realization. Had Church used the distraction just then to get a closer look at what the thieves were carrying?

Sheila caught the maroon-wearing man’s gaze and nodded in confirmation, “We need to keep them occupied.” She informed Simmons, waving a hand as she did so. Behind them, what appeared for all the world to be a sheer, looming brick wall materialized to block the fight from view from the street beyond. “That should at least buy us some time before someone comes to investigate.” The holographic Virtual Intelligence stated plainly.

“¡Excelente trabajo, Sheila! Si puede seguir así, manejaremos las cosas aquí.” _{“Excellent work, Sheila! If you can keep that up, we'll handle things here.”}_

What sounded to Simmons’ ears to be something similar to praise from the Spanish-speaking robot caused a slight _blush_ to appear on Sheila’s face, and she smiled warmly in Lopez’s direction, “I will do my best, Lopez. Do take care.” She said with rosy cheeks and Simmons’ brain desperately tried to calculate in his head how much coding and algorithms had gone into creating Sheila in order to make it even remotely possible that she appeared so human-like in her responses.

“Con un ángel radiante como tú de nuestro lado, no tenemos nada que temer.” _{“With a radiant angel such as yourself on our side, we have nothing to fear.”}_

“Oh, Lopez, you are _such_ a charmer!” Sheila replied as she actually _giggled_ at whatever Lopez had said.

Now it seemed to Simmons that, from his suddenly awkward body language, Lopez was probably doing the robotic equivalent of a blush under his brown helmet. The Spanish-speaking robot did a quick, chivalrous bow in the hologram’s direction before moving forward.

Doctor Grey watched the exchange with an almost manic gleam in her brown eyes, “Oh, how _fascinating_!” The dark-skinned woman breathed out, hands clenched into tight-fisted balls by her chin, “Do you think I could get permission to run a diagnostic check on their electronic impulses after this?”

“Lady, your idea of fascinating is _way_ different from mine.” Tucker remarked, thrusting his head in the direction of their foes, “I’m just glad we’re fighting what could count as a veritable hose right now after seeing that.”

“Yeah. It can be pretty handy when dealing with fire. Oh! Or plant care.” Iowa chimed in before he frowned in a rather pouting manner a second later, “…But you guys are still cheating.”

“This isn’t a game, son.” Sarge harrumphed as he moved to join his robotic creation Lopez on the battlefield, “There aren’t any rules in a head-on fight!”

“Oh, that was what my sister used to say when we had pillow fights.” Caboose intoned nostalgically, “Especially when we got out the water balloons.”

Simmons gaped at the blue-wearing man, his brain nearly breaking trying to follow Caboose’s line of logic, “B—but there shouldn’t _be_ any water balloons in a pillow fight!”

The younger male cast a pitying blue-eyed gaze his way, “Clearly you have never had a proper pillow fight.”

“Yeah, you have been majorly deprived, gray nerd.” Kaikaina chimed in a second later, “Without the water balloons, how else do you get to the braless wet t-shirt contest?”

“Th—the _what_?!?” Yep, Simmons’ brain was definitely all sorts of broken now.

There was a loud groan off to his right as Grif yelled, _“Goddamn it, Kai!”_ at the top of his lungs while at the same time Tucker let out a jubilant bellow of _“Fuck yeah, I wanna go to one of your sleepovers now! Bow-chicka-bow-wow!”_

“Um…guys?” Doc chimed in as he let out a nervous laugh as he motioned to the fight currently going on around them, “Shouldn’t we be focusing on _this_ instead?”

“He’s right,” Washington said, quickly agreeing with the self-proclaimed pacifist’s sentiment, “Our best bet is going to be to keep these guys as separated from one another as possible. They’re stronger together.”

Simmons cast a curious glance over towards the Triplets then, noticing how closely the three had been sticking together since they had started attacking. He had heard before about Specials that had strange _“linking”_ abilities: weaker abilities that actually became all the more powerful when in close proximity to another Special with a similar powerset. It was a rather rare phenomenon though, so not much was known on how it really worked.

But, Simmons supposed that explained why the three were nicknamed the Triplets even though they didn’t appear to have any biological familial relations to one another.

“Relax,” Tucker guffawed at Washington’s warning, “We’ve _got_ this.” He assured the other man as he raced forward himself, his energy blade sparking into vibrant life in his hand.

The plan to divide the three at least ever-so-slightly was already underway when Simmons spotted Kimball look over towards Carolina. Unlike everyone else save Sheila who was busy keeping up the wall and Doctor Grey who was trying to shout out advice on potential weak spots, the cyan-wearing redhead had not moved so much as a muscle in the direction of the fight. Her eyes, however, were definitely glued to it and her frown deepened ever so slightly as her arms remained crossed over her chest.

The other woman raised a dark eyebrow, “You’re not going to help?” Kimball questioned, casting another glance back at the action, “I suppose it would be hard to fight former friends.”

The redhead’s lips formed a tight line at the comment, “That’s…not it.” She stated so hesitatingly that Kimball had a sneaking suspicion that _was_ , in fact, a larger factor than Carolina was even willing to admit to herself, “This was all my brother’s idea, and I want to see if he actually has a valid point.”

Kimball frowned somewhat herself then, obviously not liking the idea of stepping aside and letting a fight unfold herself. But, she opted to say nothing for the moment since she was certain that Carolina had her reasons for doing so. Instead, Simmons watched out of the corner of his eye as the dark-skinned woman turned her attention back to the fighting as well.

Simmons, Kai, and Caboose had somehow managed to back the brown-haired Iowa further away from his compatriots through a combination of some well-placed cybernetic energy blasts towards Iowa’s feet. The blasts from Simmons caused Iowa to constantly stay on his toes, while Kai made him feel _just_ dizzy enough to find it hard to focus on using his powers.

Caboose’s contribution was basically just being intimidating-looking enough due to his sheer stature to ensure that Iowa most definitely wanted to stay as far away as possible from his attempts to _“hug it out.”_

Of course, that fighting combination only worked until Idaho figured out what they were up to. He spun around just long enough to shoot a quick-moving blast of water at the trio from behind. There was a small blip of an alert across Simmons’ artificial eye that had him turn quickly enough to notice what was happening.

“Look out!” Simmons shouted at his two allies, instinctively diving forward to pull both Kai and Caboose down onto the ground.

There was a _whoosh_ of violent air overhead and a few rather painful pinprick drips of water from it as the blast flew through where they had all been standing mere moments before, hitting into a building’s wall and creating a very large impact crater after an explosion of dust and rock.

“Hey, asshole!” Kai yelled towards Idaho at the top of her lungs, resulting in both men huddling near her having to wince, “You could have gotten me all wet, and not in the good way!”

Simmons’ pale face felt like it was going to overheat as an oblivious Caboose rather innocently added, “Yes, this is not like pillow fights with water balloons.”

Rather thankfully for them, Caboose’s fortune-enhancing ability chose that moment to kick into high gear as if sensing that the tall blond male could have been in trouble. As Caboose shakily got to his feet and helped haul Simmons and Kai up to theirs, a fist-sized chunk of debris skidded down from the top of his shoulder onto the ground right next to Iowa.

The still wobbly former Freelancer put his foot down on it and tripped, falling backwards onto his behind as he still tried shaking the dizziness from his brain. “I’m down!” Iowa exclaimed loudly as Kai and Simmons in particular glanced questioningly at one another, wondering just what to do next.

_“Kai!”_ Grif shouted out after seeing what had nearly happened to his little sister, apparently _much_ more motivated to get into the thick of things following her almost being stuck in danger.

The orange-wearing man cast a threatening look towards Idaho then, causing the black-haired man in blue and white to actually take a small step backwards.

Tucker noticed this and grinned over at Grif, “How about a team up?”

Grif nodded his head and suddenly Idaho was shaking rather violently, as if overcome with a near-crippling sense of fear. The effect apparently made it rather difficult for him to maintain his control over water, as the sudden shield he had created to try to block Tucker’s oncoming sword-strike dissolved nearly instantaneously, the water orb coating Idaho’s fist as he made to counterattack being rather weak compared to previous blasts before it suddenly became a puddle on the ground.

“Can’t keep it up?” Tucker asked, grinning, “You know, they have pills for that now!”

“Dude, you’re ruining it!” Grif told the teal-wearing man with a sigh.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Idaho threw up another hasty water shield, trying to get a safe distance away before it evaporated again as Tucker’s sword sliced through it.

“They’re trying to distract and divide us!” Ohio called out in-between dodging what seemed to be an infinite number of generating bullets from Sarge along with bits of thrown debris from Lopez, “Guys! Get over here!”

Idaho gritted his teeth and shook his head to dispel the last lingering traces of fear from his system as he cast a quick glance over in Iowa’s direction. Their teammate was still sitting on the ground, hands raised above his head in obvious surrender while Simmons, Kai, and Caboose stood over him.

“We’re a little busy here, Ohio!” Idaho informed the pink-haired woman as he bit his lip, fighting against a new wave of anxiety enough to hit Tucker’s shoulder with water and temporarily halt his charge, “How about you come over closer to us?”

Ohio hung her head, “Dang it!” She grumbled under her breath before letting loose a cry and running straight towards Lopez. As she did so, though, she directed a speedy blast of water in Sarge’s direction…

“Whoa there! Let’s not be too hasty, all right?” Doc suddenly stepped directly into Ohio’s path, causing the blue-wearing woman with white and rubine accents to slam hard on her internal brakes in order to barely avoid crashing into him.

As she did so, the water blast she’d been creating suddenly sputtered and dropped down uselessly onto the ground. Ohio glanced over in shock at the direction that it had been heading in when she heard Sarge let out a small sigh of relief, clenching and unclenching her hand as she did so but without getting the attack to rematerialize.

The water shield that Idaho had been using suddenly became much smaller too, “What the actual fuck…?”

Doc held his hands out in a peaceful gesture as Lopez and Sarge cautiously approached Idaho and Ohio from the sides, “Can’t we just talk this out?” The purple-wearing man asked rather hopefully.

The dark-skinned woman glared angrily at the source of her canceled out power, “The Freelancers I knew in the past didn’t care about talking to us at all!” She spat out, her gaze fixing pointedly over Doc’s shoulder towards both Washington and Carolina.

Washington flinched at the accusation in her tone while Carolina’s green eyes only momentarily flickered downward. “That isn’t true!” The blond male in steel and yellow took a step forward, “Ohio—!”

But whatever he was going to say was cut off by the ground shaking violently beneath their feet, chunks of stone from the alleyway and buildings ripping away into the air and becoming rather sharp-looking and altogether menacing projectiles mere seconds later.

“Fóllame. ¡Las rocas están luchando ahora!” _{“Fuck me. The rocks are fighting back now!”}_

Donut pushed past an astonished Lopez who was currently in the process of dropping the bit of rock he had been about to throw as his own makeshift projectile to keep Ohio on her toes just in time to grab Doc, who was closest to the incoming assault, forcibly by the collar. The pink-wearing man yanked Doc to safety behind him. Donut pulled up a forcefield in the nick of time to deflect much of the assault, but his abrupt action had made Doc lose his concentration when it came to suppressing Ohio’s power.

The Triplets took the opportunity to regroup, a huge explosion of water sending the rock shrapnel careening down at all of them at even more lethal speeds than before.

“Oh wow!” Donut mumbled, sweat beginning to bead up along his brow as he tried maintaining his shield, “Now even _I’m_ having a hard time keeping it up!”

Tucker opened his mouth to respond to that particular innuendo with one of his own quips when Washington preemptively cut him off with a glare, _“No.”_

The dark-skinned man in teal pouted, but looked on as Kimball stepped forward with a ball of white energy about the size of a soccer ball floating above her head. “Donut, let the forcefield down.” She instructed as she stepped up behind him.

“You sure?” The dirty blond asked as he looked towards her questioningly over his shoulder, “These guys _really_ want to pound away hard on us.”

Kimball smirked slightly before turning serious once more, “It will be fine. Trust me.”

From close by, Sarge cocked his shotgun, “Can’t let her have all the fun, now can we?” He cast a glance over at Simmons, “You ready, son?”

The cyborg nodded nervously, holding out his metallic arm as he tried to not get overly giddy at the mere thought that an older male authority figure had deigned to call him _son_ , “R—ready, sir!”

Tucker grinned, his energy blade at the ready, “This is going to be fun.”

At that, Donut dropped the forcefield. Lopez and Doc pulled him quickly away as the four at the ready took up their new positions towards the front of the fight.

The orb floating over Kimball’s head began shooting out rays of blindingly iridescent energy in the blink of an eye in every direction, all in a scattering pattern that dissipated large sections of the oncoming water. At the same time, the three men were making quick work of a majority of the aerial assault of rocks.

“Hey, thanks for the assist!” Tucker turned back to Kimball after one last swipe, grinning appreciatively.

Kimball gave him a brief nod, eyes briefly finding Carolina’s behind the dark-skinned male, “I just couldn’t stand by and do nothing.” She told him.

Carolina pointedly averted her own gaze, although her hardened expression didn’t change.

“That’s funny.” A new female voice uttered as three mysterious figures landed on the group from one of the nearby rooftops, “Neither could we.”

The tan-skinned woman who had spoken just then had short, curly black hair resting atop her head and a rather jagged scar underneath her left eye. She was dressed in white clothing with red trim, while her two cohorts were dressed identically to one another in steel and red. They had obviously been the ones who had come to the Triplets’ rescue.

The first male, a black-haired man with sharp brown eyes, whistled over at the Triplets in way of greeting, “Guess things got a bit hard to handle, huh?” He joked.

Idaho groaned and rolled his eyes, “Shut it, Darryl.”

Darryl’s grin only widened as he tilted his head towards the dark-skinned man with a crewcut right next to him, “Hey, it could have been way worse.” He informed the former Freelancer as he pointed his finger rather obviously in his teammate’s direction, “Guess who nearly blew us all up again trying to make coffee?”

“They need to stop putting dangerous activation buttons so damn close to everyday kitchen appliances!” The unknown idiot stated in exasperation.

Caboose let out a breath of air in amazement, “I have the very same problem.” He whispered, looking for all the world as if he had just found yet another kindred spirit.

Tucker reached out and patted Caboose consolingly on the back, “Uh, buddy? You don’t even _need_ there to be any dangerous activation buttons close by to be a danger in the kitchen.”

“Quiet, Terrill.” The scarred woman told her teammate dismissively over Tucker’s remark, “We’re kind of in the middle of something here.”

“Right.” Terrill nodded his head in understanding, “Sorry, Sherry.”

Ohio let out a rather tired groan of her own, taking Sherry’s proffered hand in hers as the other woman helped haul her up on her feet, “We’re never going to live this down, are we?”

Sherry shrugged and gave her a reassuring sort-of smile, “Eh, what our bosses don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.”

The two women stared at one another a second longer, hands still clasped before Terrill loudly whispered, “Just ask each other out already!” As the others in their collective group all nodded their heads at the suggestion.

“Oh, _matchmaking_!” Donut squealed excitedly at the prospect, apparently not at all bothered by the fact that the two women were technically adversaries at the moment.

Sherry and Ohio let out two _very_ awkward-sounding coughs and looked away from the other. “You guys still have the data?” Sherry asked Ohio, clearly trying to shift the conversation.

Ohio’s blush-darkened cheeks shone even more as she bobbed her head, “Of course! Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“Then let’s call it a day.” The short-haired woman called Sherry motioned over her shoulder to her teammates in their matching uniforms.

Darryl and Terrill stepped up beside her, the ground shaking once more. It suddenly occurred to Simmons that they were dealing with _two_ sets of Specials who had _“linking”_ abilities at their disposal. Lucky them.

A huge wall of earth rose up to block the Reds and Blues from following the Triplets and their allies but, just as quickly, Washington was standing right beside it. He silently poked his index finger in the middle of the hastily built blockade, a huge crack forming straight down the middle of it from where his finger touched. The middle crack began splintering off into a myriad spiderweb of structural weaknesses at a rapid pace before the whole thing came crumbling down.

A few pointy shards of rocky debris remained floating around Washington in order to keep the criminals at bay.

“Shit, you’re _actually_ helping?” Tucker was gaping at the older man, clearly impressed by his power display.

Washington smiled slightly as he cast a gray-eyed glance towards Tucker’s direction, “It wouldn’t have felt right to do otherwise.” He turned to look past the three newcomers to address the Triplets further down the alleyway, “You know you’re being used, right?” He asked them quietly, almost pleadingly.

Sherry snorted derisively in response, “It wouldn’t be the first time, copycat.” She said flatly.

All of the others around her nodded their heads in staunch agreement before turning once more to leave.

“Guys!” Washington called out again, and he somehow sounded more earnest and sincere than usual. Even Tucker was openly gaping at Washington now, unbeknownst to the former Freelancer, “It was…” He swallowed as he chose his next words carefully, “ _Good_ seeing you again.”

Iowa stopped and looked questioningly back at the blond, his mouth open as if to say something in response before Idaho grabbed his shoulder protectively. Iowa turned his rather hurt and lost gaze away instead.

Ohio only froze in her steps for a moment, Sherry looking at her curiously before the dark-skinned woman gave a quick shake of her head and continued on without looking back, “Come on, guys, we have to go.” was the last thing they heard Ohio say.

Washington hung his head for a few seconds following their departure, Tucker frowning and reaching over with his hand towards the Special in an unsure gesture just as alarms sounded off in the distance. The Reds and Blues decided to vacate the area rather quickly too, figuring it was best to avoid any awkward questions from the police.

*****

It took a few moments for everyone to gather once again at the meeting spot in Armonia that Church had designated for them earlier. David Washington frowned as he looked up at the shadows looming overhead, recognizing the spot on the outskirts of the richer, more well-to-do areas of the city readily enough.

It was a spot that the Director had often arranged for his agents to meet one another at, especially when missions required that they didn’t waste time heading all the way back to headquarters. After all, the man always had been rather adamant about getting all assignments done as efficiently as possible. A trait his daughter seemed to share.

Carolina landed down next to Washington not a minute later, her green eyes narrowed considerably as the others regrouped all around them, “Son of a bitch.” She muttered.

Washington raised a blond eyebrow slightly. Clearly, the meeting site was recognizable to her as well. He figured that Church must have picked it out not only due to his own familiarity with the place, but due to its ease of access back to his own base of operations.

Washington, desperate to take his mind off of the lingering sense of _guilt_ that he was still reeling from after seeing the Triplets again, couldn’t stop himself from commenting to her, “Well, _that_ could have gone a lot better.”

Back in Freelancer, he hadn’t really thought too much about the Triplets suddenly never being around like they had always been before, had he? A part of him didn’t blame them for their obvious resentment.

Carolina, looking rather taken aback by the joking remark thrown her way given how things had progressed in their last conversation with one another, tried to respond but Church was suddenly standing beside them both with a triumphant grin on his face as his body returned to its normal coloring.

For once, Washington was glad for the dark-haired man’s abrupt appearance and overly cocky attitude, because he was fairly certain Church’s hawk-eyed sister had zeroed in on how self-deprecating his smile had been, how weak his attempt at inane chatter to keep his mind off of things truly was. The blond just knew that Carolina would have tried saying something about their former teammates’ appearances that he wasn’t really in the mood to hear currently.

He’d rather wallow in his guilt some more.

“Oh, you _really_ fucking think so, huh, Washington?” Church gloated with his arms crossed over his chest in a pale imitation of Carolina’s usual stance, “Well, you can just go ahead and suck it then since yours truly just so happened to get a pretty fucking awesome look at what our buddies stole!”

That _did_ pique Washington’s interest slightly and he saw Carolina lift her head a fraction to regard her little brother in a more assessing manner. They had both known that Church had gone into his Digital Form in order to mine for data, but neither had known until now if he had been successful in the endeavor or not.

In fairness to them, it had usually been about fifty-fifty when he had attempted to do so while acting as support out on the field during Project Freelancer.

“Anything interesting?” Washington asked once it became all too apparent that Church was way too willing to remain basking in their amazement over his success.

“Yeah,” Church frowned at the question, tapping his foot on the ground, “It’s info from the Specials Registry that the Director was secretly compiling.”

The same Specials Registry that now quite a few influential and _“concerned”_ citizens were pushing to have happen on a legal and open-to-the-public stance. Washington had been keeping up with the ongoing debate well enough in the years past, not sure how many people had truly known that such a list had been worked on for years already in the shadows.

“That registry was hardly legal to begin with.” Washington said, frowning at this turn of events, “It was split amongst different facilities and organizations for that very reason.”

“All knowledge is worth having, to use as a weapon before someone else ends up beating you to it.” Carolina murmured, a decidedly neutral edge to her voice.

Church grimaced at her recitation, “Definitely was the asshole’s motto.”

The redheaded female furrowed her brows in a contemplative manner, “Given Charon’s rivalry with Freelancer, I suppose it would make sense for them to have shared that particular viewpoint.”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t like Freelancer’s reason for trying to make that list wasn’t for completely dickish stuff to begin with.” Her brother agreed, “From what I’ve seen and heard of them, Charon are even _bigger_ assholes. And that is all sorts of fucked up.”

“So we can throw out any potentially altruistic reasons one might have for creating such a list.” Washington surmised.

“Please,” Church said as the younger male scoffed derisively, “When was there _ever_ one for that fucking thing?”

Washington frowned but said nothing in reply, knowing Church had a point. A list like the Specials Registry either existed as a precautionary measure, which was why it hadn’t been destroyed outright even in its still uncompleted form and had been merely scattered all over Chorus, or as a target list. The scattering of the list was a checks and balance measure to at least try to make perusing personal files of potentially thousands of people that much more difficult in a vain attempt to still appear slightly ethical.

No matter the reason for its existence, a list like that in the hands of a group like Charon wasn’t exactly an ideal scenario for anyone.

“Since we don’t exactly know for sure what these assholes are really after,” Church was saying as Washington’s ears tuned back into the discussion again, “We could definitely use your help, sis. If you’d like to give it, that is.”

Washington looked at the fidgety manner in which Church had addressed his sibling just then, refusing to meet Carolina’s eyes all the same. It was the closest thing either one of them would likely get to an olive branch for their outbursts earlier, so he was curious to see if it would be accepted. Neither surviving member of the Church family seemed adept at communicating feelings directly unless under extreme circumstances.

Carolina shifted her balance as she regarded Church and then his rather mismatched group of the Reds and Blues gathered a slight distance away, “I’ll see what I can do, Church, but I’m not making any promises.” She told him after a few minutes of consideration, “I have my own matter to deal with.”

Church made a face at the cyan-wearing woman’s response, “Right. And you’re finally going to tell us what _that_ is when…?”

But Carolina opted not to respond, stiffly walking away to go and converse with Kimball and Tucker instead. Or, more likely, prevent Tucker’s horrible attempts at flirting with Kimball to inadvertently turn young Junior into an orphan before his dad’s dumbass idea to try and fight crime would.

It was pretty clear by Carolina’s body language that she was saying it wasn’t any of their business though, and Washington had already pushed too hard on that front before to risk bodily harm by doing so again.

“Un-fucking-believable.” The blond heard Church mutter underneath his breath and, for a brief moment, the former Freelancer felt a bit of sympathy for the frustration that the other man was no doubt feeling at being out of the loop.

_That_ thought had Washington thinking of what the Triplets had said again, however, and he also became rather frustrated at himself for having chosen to remain out of the loop for far longer than he would ever care to admit.

Before the looming ache of regret and anger became too much for Washington once more, he caught sight of Tucker waving both him and Church over to where he was standing with two very amused-looking ladies, although their body language indicated Tucker was extremely close to making Junior an orphan.

Both Washington and Church pointedly refused to look at one another as they walked over to the others, immensely grateful for the interruption to both of their troubling thoughts.

*****

Doctor Emily Grey was certainly having quite the eventful day, if she said so herself! She never thought that she would find anyone else who would have been as interested in tracking down the data thieves as she was. The dark-skinned woman had become well and truly tired of being told by her exasperated coworkers to _“just for once let something go.”_

Oh, sure, she knew that none of them would have had the same deep-rooted reasoning to pursue the matter further that she had, but she _had_ expected a bit more of an uproar over pilfered medical records all the same given their chosen professions. Granted, Grey thought with a contemplative frown suffusing her features, it wasn’t as if that wouldn’t have been the case if the stolen files had belonged to so-called _“normal”_ patients.

That line of thought had always irked her due to the oaths she had taken upon becoming a doctor. She _never_ put up distinctions or preferences for her patients, and it always bothered her to witness colleagues, if she could even call them that, doing so time and time again just because of where someone might live or what abilities they may have unexpected developed.

The police weren’t exactly much better either. Sure, files being stolen from a hospital was somewhat troubling to them, particularly given _who_ the files had actually covered, but they told her upon her asking for more details on the case that the investigation was always going to be lower priority for them in the wake of much more violent crimes.

Grey understood having priorities and, as a medical professional, she would also certainly like to see less victims of violent crimes herself. But, the matter of a string of thefts of medical files on known Specials happening around the same time as heated debates all over the city about whether or not a Specials Registry should be created and specific rules for those with powers put more into place _not_ being a matter of more concern was rather troubling to her.

Come to think of it, before her rather serendipitous run-in with these Reds and Blues, as they rather curiously liked to be called, and their cohorts _(oh, she was certain she could do so many wonderful psychological studies on just about all of them if given the chance!)_ , the only other person who had seemed at all interested in the issue besides her was that investigative reporter Dylan Andrews who was always on the lookout for a new story.

Doctor Grey hadn’t been terribly impressed with past encounters that she’d had with reporters as they were often far too concerned with getting their _“scoop”_ rather than with the fact that they might be interfering with doctors trying to do their jobs or with the overall healing process in general, but she wondered if she shouldn’t at least reach out to this Andrews woman now if only to shed more light on the matter to the general public. She _had_ given Grey her phone number just in case.

“Sassafras!”

The heavily-accented and rather colorful exclamation had Grey glancing up curiously. Sarge, who had been in the midst of conversing with Lopez, Sheila, and Caboose a moment ago, was now facing her direction, looking distastefully at a rather heavily bleeding gash on his right shoulder.

No doubt the Special hadn’t noticed the injury before now due to the adrenaline that had been flooding his system. The human body was an _amazing_ machine, after all! To be honest, Grey hadn’t been paying as much attention as she perhaps should have been to everyone’s conditions in their hurry to leave the site of the fight. It was hard to make out the darker sheen of liquid crimson against the red that the older man seemed so fond of wearing, but now that she was staring at it there was no mistake.

“A battle wound?” Grey asked conversationally, hoping it hadn’t been bleeding too heavily all this time without proper treatment.

Sarge glowered down at the injury as if it had personally affronted him, “Musta gotten nicked during that last skirmish.”

Grey walked over in two long-legged strides, not bothering to give the red-wearing man the chance to downplay what had happened as she suspected he was about to do. “Don’t move.” She advised him in a voice that left no room for argument.

She hovered over the gash with her fingertips, nearly touching it and lost in her focus. The injury was, thankfully, a rather straightforward one.

Nothing vital had been hit. The wound itself was even rather clean despite having been made by a piece of violently thrown rock shrapnel, and she doubted there would even be much of a scar if it healed properly. A thin smile lit up her face at her suspicion that Sarge might not be the sort of person who would be particularly welcoming of that last bit of news.

The red-wearing man fidgeted awkwardly as her scrutiny continued, “You really don’t hafta…”

“Not to worry, Sarge!” Grey cut him off rather jubilantly, “I have just the treatment in mind for you!”

Sarge watched in silent fascination as Doctor Grey pulled out a pocket knife of all things. Yes, she found that the tools were perfectly named since they fit so snugly into one!

…Normally, the dark-haired woman held onto the tool until the direst of circumstances and she was given a measure of privacy. But, she assumed it would be all right to show this particular group of people what she could do.

Without giving him any time to react, Grey sliced the extended blade over the open wound. There was a sudden glow in the arc that she had made, the gash covered by it in its entirety as the injury began to close up all on its own.

“Would you look at that!” Sarge marveled on in astonishment, moving the hand he had brought up on instinct after Grey’s swipe so that he could see the ongoing repairs more clearly.

“In my case,” Grey beamed as she put away her knife, beyond pleased by Sarge’s reaction, “Cutting and healing people has always been the same!”

Sarge looked up at her face then, his weathered features nearly as red as his clothes as he gaped at her, “You are a woman after my own heart, Doctor Grey.”

Grey’s own face felt rather warm itself as she returned his smile, so very glad once again that this day had turned out to be so eventful.

*****

Kai was talking rather emphatically to Doc and Donut over what exactly _had_ been the odds of that fight possibly turning into a full-blown orgy once those three new guys had shown up because _“I have seen way too many pornos that start out just like that!”_ …and, for once, Dexter Grif wasn’t going ballistic over her continued efforts to embarrass the family. Still, he couldn’t help but let out an exasperated sigh all the same.

Honestly, right now? He was just so fucking relieved that his little sister hadn’t been hurt during Idaho’s sneak attack that he could really care less about the hypothetical mayhem a totally unharmed Kaikaina Grif was trying to imagine herself getting into.

Of course, _that_ only lasted for about two minutes before Kai turned in his direction with a put-upon scowl covering up her face, “Um, big bro? You hovering like that is totally putting a damper on this convo.” She informed him rather matter-of-factly while stamping her foot on the ground for added emphasis, “You definitely don’t want to get a stalker rep like Tucker’s cop over there.”

From farther away, a figure in teal shouted _“He’s not mine!”_ around the same time as a rather defeated-sounding cry of _“For the last time, I am not a stalker! …Or a cop!”_ could be heard too.

Kai raised an eyebrow at her sibling then as if the outbursts had somehow made her point, “So, come on, Dex! You in or out?”

“No need to be shy now!” Doc chimed in rather pleasantly, “The more the merrier, I always say. Unless someone happens to feel left out during group gatherings.”

“Come on, Grif! Join the fun! I always make room for one more man.” Donut gestured to the empty space between himself and Kai, “Even if it means having to do a whole lot of contortions, the satisfaction’s always worth it!”

“ _Ha!_ That’s what those guys said a few weeks ago too.” Kai let out a snort of laughter at her recollection of an event that had most certainly, much to Grif’s consternation, not been anything close to a mundane albeit brain-breaking conversation like the one she was having now.

Grif sighed again and rolled his eyes, “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself.” The tan-skinned young woman shrugged dismissively, turning back to Doc and Donut and ignoring her sibling entirely.

The trios’ voices drifted over to Grif in a hushed tone of indecipherable jargon as he walked further away, catching sight of Simmons standing by himself a distance away.

Even though the fight was now over, the dumb nerd _still_ looked incredibly anxious and strung out. The cyborg was glancing from the ground to the others and back again in a frantic, nervous way. His body was poised as if he was thinking about running at any second.

Grif raised a dark-colored eyebrow and walked over, “Hey.”

Yeah, he was right about Simmons being a potential flight risk just then because the lanky redhead jumped a good meter in the air at the sound of his voice. Both of his eyes, including his artificial one, were wide and panicked when they landed on Grif.

The heavyset man was oh-so-tempted to use his power just then to help Simmons calm down at least a fraction, but he figured if the pale cyborg hadn’t outright bolted like he seemed so keen on doing then he was fighting his nerves well enough on his own right now. Besides, constantly bombarding Idaho with a nearly suffocating sense of panic for as long as he had in the fight before had made him feel particularly lazy in regards to using his powers again so soon. He would need at least a few more minutes to recover. Maybe something to eat or drink too.

“Relax, kiss-ass.” Grif told Simmons instead, nodding over in the direction of his happily chatting away sibling, “You saved Kai earlier, so I just wanted to say thanks for that. I guess.”

Honestly? He couldn’t think of too many people who would risk themselves for the sake of a _“good-for-nothing”_ Grif. Given how Simmons’ first impression of Grif had probably not been all that _“favorable”_ or whatever, he was shocked that the cyborg had even made the effort to save his sibling.

“Oh!” Realization appeared across the nerd’s face then, and the heavily freckled portion of his face turned rather red right up to the plating on the other side, “Ah, um…you’re welcome?” Simmons smiled slightly and the shy note behind the expression was rather _cute_ somehow, “We—we’re all teammates, so it was the least I could do. Right?”

Grif didn’t have the heart to tell him that he still wasn’t quite sure what to make of this whole _“team”_ business, especially not with those guys from the park’s comments and threats still looming in the back of his mind. Nor did he want to tell Simmons how he might react himself if anyone but Kai happened to be in immediate danger, but he felt like he had to reassure the desperate cyborg _somehow_.

“Right.” Grif said at length, watching with keen interest as some of the nervous energy radiating off of Simmons’ shoulders dissipated and he relaxed slightly.

The man in the maroon hoodie let out a prolonged sigh of relief as Grif continued to watch, his curiosity piqued as to why Simmons was still so on edge to begin with despite himself. He looked away for a moment, coughing purposefully to get the redhead’s full attention.

Just as he felt Simmons’ questioning regard on him and he opened his mouth to continue their conversation totally against his better judgement, Grif was interrupted by a loud exclamation while a momentary spark of frustration hit him for an unknown reason.

“Hey, assholes!” Tucker loudly called out with his hands circled around his mouth, “We should totally be celebrating right now!”

“Whoo-hoo, yeah! Let’s get wasted!” Kai shouted back eagerly in response.

“Goddamn it, Kai!” Grif groaned and held his head in his hands, his face suddenly feeling rather warm as Simmons stifled a fucking _giggle_ of all things at his reaction to his sister’s antics and the heavier set man tried to fight the slight upwards curving of his own lips but to no avail.

Thankfully, before Grif could question himself any further on just what the fuck was possibly going on there, Caboose raised his hand and stepped forward in response to Tucker’s initial declaration, “I think I know a place we could go for that.” He offered, much to everyone else’s surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I had NO idea this chapter would end up being as long as it ended up being! 0_0; I seriously got carried away at some parts, and now my poor hands are paying the price for it. XD
> 
> Oh, Grif…not only do we still not know what you’re going to do with the whole Felix and Locus situation, but you are so very much in denial about Simmons that it isn’t even funny! XD As are Tucker and Wash, honestly. …And both Sherry and Ohio too. Lopez and Sheila, along with Sarge and Doctor Grey, might be the only couples so far who have put those “funny feelings” into perspective at the moment! :)
> 
> Speaking of Grey, not only was this my first attempt at writing for Sherry, Darryl, and Terrill (so I apologize if I wrote them too OOC or anything like that), this was actually only the second time I have ever written a POV from Doctor Grey! I absolutely adore her so she shows up in pretty much all of my fics, but for some reason I’m not yet as confident in writing her narration. Hopefully it wasn’t too out of character! :D
> 
> Also, Sheila being a hologram who can create optical illusions is pretty much my take on Synergy’s skillset from _Jem and the Holograms_. I REGRET ADMITTING NOTHING! XD
> 
> Next time in _Specials_ : Caboose actually DOES know a place (because I can never write an AU without some kind of bar scene, evidently XD), and Tex ends up showing up there too much to Carolina’s chagrin. Kimball learns a bit more about Carolina and offers to help her out. Tucker and Wash talk about the Triplets and how well the team did. Grif and Simmons muddle more through their feelings thanks to the wonders of alcohol while Kai makes a “friend.” Three more of the Lieutenants finally get introduced, and Grif ends up having to play the role of reluctant hero all on his lonesome.
> 
> Not sure yet if I am going to jump right into the next chapter or post something for one of my other WIPs next, but I hope either way you will enjoy the future updates! :) Thank you so much for reading! :D
> 
> I would also very much like to give out a huge, huge, HUGE **thank you** at the top of my lungs to the incredibly talented and absolutely phenomenal **_blankslate101_** , who has made a wonderful comic illustration for the “powers and fax machine” convo between Grif and Simmons in this story. :D It’s seriously amazing and I absolutely loved how they captured that scene. I can’t stop smiling every time I see it. Please be sure to check out their amazing work over at DeviantArt yourself! :D _Thank you so very much, again!_ :)


	12. Chapter Eleven: Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

It was a perplexing thought, the idea that Michael J. Caboose knew any type of place where their mismatched group could celebrate their first real team outing. Truth be told, even the more antisocial and cautious in their midst were so caught off-guard that they couldn’t help but decide to tag along.

Fuck it, Leonard Church was _voluntarily_ spending his precious free time with Caboose and these other assholes he had assembled together just to do his bidding, which was truly saying something. He had even chosen to not use his power and simply tag along through someone’s phone or tablet so that he could head back to his sanctuary, which _also_ said something. Church wasn’t nearly as keen on physically leaving any of his few designated safe zones anymore, even if he tried not revealing that to others. He didn’t want anyone knowing just how unsafe past experiences had made him feel.

For some inexplicable reason, the tag-alongs to the Reds and Blues’ first official team outing were also evidently opting to stick around, a group which included his sister.

Church’s upset, still very much annoyed at his actions, sister.

Never mind that he was just as pissed at the redheaded female for her constant disappearing acts these days. They both refused to let their social ineptitude keep them from this, in what Tucker would no doubt refer to as the most fucking stupid and downright pointless game of Chicken ever.

Carolina wanted to hang out and suffer horribly awkward moments with a bunch of weirdos? Fine! Church would show her just how much more adept at suffering through awkward shit he could be!

That was probably a fucked up reason for hanging around teammates, but Church was man enough to admit he was a fucked up guy in that department. Only because he was so awesome and could admit it, like an awesome person would.

Besides, Church knew that Carolina was well-versed in his self-preservation tactics. If he retreated now like she expected him to do, the redhead would have shown up at his hideout so that they could privately continue their _“discussion”_ about his forming a team of sorts behind her back.

_That_ would just lead to a shit-ton of yelling and broken things. Plus, Sheila had _only_ just started talking to him again after the training chamber had been repaired the _last_ time that he and Carolina argued over this sort of shit. His sister was similar to Tex in a way one would be wise to _never_ point out: Carolina often used fists and power to express her emotions, and her emotions usually held a lot of anger and hurt at their core. After their private talk, they would both stalk off in a huff and freeze the other out until they either happened to run into one another or needed the other for something they couldn’t avoid.

Their familial situation had always been fucked up, and neither of them really wanted things to delve into that predictable pattern because they honestly did fucking _care_ , so they were both trying to avoid that from happening right now.

Forcing themselves to go to an outing in public was a good diversionary tactic. Even if they did try talking at this point, there would be witnesses. Plus, more of a mindset against collateral damage.

Mulling over such things in his head, along with pondering over the surprising encounter with the Triplets and what the files they had been stealing contained, kept Church rather preoccupied. So much so that he barely even registered that Caboose had taken them back into Blood Gulch until they were standing in front of a two-story building. It seemed rather well-maintained despite the dinginess of its surrounding neighbors. The first floor was clearly a _“hole-in-the-wall”_ type of establishment, a sign overhead declaring it the _“LZ”_ in immensely huge font with an aircraft on one side of the text, a martini glass on the other.

LZ was probably short for _“Landing Zone”_ in this case, given the sign’s imagery. Church squinted up at the sign as it dawned on him from the suddenly eager and expected glimmer in Caboose’s blue eyes that _this_ was the place the younger man had been referring to earlier, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! Some kind of airplane-themed bar, Caboose?” Church asked the blue-wearing man.

Caboose’s excited demeanor did not change in the slightest, “They have food too.” He explained, lowering his voice slightly as if telling all of them an important secret, “And the building doesn’t really fly.”

“No kidding.” Tucker remarked as he rolled his eyes from where he was standing next to Church, trying to peer through the purposefully tinted windows to look inside the establishment, “What’s with the name?”

“It was my sister’s idea!” The younger blond was happy to supply, “To help remind her of her other job.”

_That_ actually got Church’s attention as he thoughtfully looked over towards Caboose. He hadn’t been able to dig up nearly as much information on Caboose or some of his other recruits as he would have liked, and not without having put in a whole lot of effort in trying either. A few of them, like Simmons or the Grif siblings, had simply been actively trying to keep themselves out of the information spotlight in light of their pasts while others, such as Donut, simply didn’t have anything of note to their files beyond their powers.

The black-haired man had always just assumed that Caboose belonged to that last grouping in light of how harmless he was overall. He was pretty sure that he was mostly correct in that assessment though he had found it rather interesting that one of Caboose’s numerous sisters’ files had been purposefully redacted in particular. The information had been tampered with through some extremely capable data scrubbing and hacking too, though he hadn’t given it much thought on account of it being _Caboose_ ’s sister. Church figured the odds of anyone related to him being up to something horrifically shady were pretty slim.

But this current conversation…

“Is she a pilot or something?” Church asked curiously, though he knew the name of the bar made that pretty evident.

“Yep!” Caboose beamed proudly, “She is very good too, even if she never lets me try.”

Huh, so she was at least aware of what Caboose was capable of whenever he was put behind the wheel of transportation. A bar seemed like an odd choice for a second business though…

Then again, he was probably just letting his suspicions get the better of him. Not everyone had questionable, shady relatives in their lives. Caboose obviously held his mysterious sibling in high esteem and while his judgement at times could be circumspect, he _did_ like Church so obviously Caboose could tell when people were amazing.

“Well, what in tarnation are we all just standing around out here for?” Sarge demanded as he forced his way into the conversation rather abruptly along with a few quiet murmurs of agreement springing up from the rest of their group in wake of his question.

“W—wait a minute, Sarge!” Simmons nervously tried pointing out, “Won’t we, uh, stand out?”

The cyborg had drawn up his maroon hoodie in a pointless attempt to cover up his metal and circuitry, pulling absentmindedly on the clothing’s drawstrings as if to relieve himself of all of his pent-up, nervous energy.

“Meh, most people will just think you have kickass scarring and grafts after some accident, dude.” Tucker waved him off, “Bet it could even get you laid in a place like this.”

The flesh portion of Simmons’ face turned incredibly red, “Th—that’s not what I meant!”

The redhead’s eyes flickered over to Sheila and Lopez before he bit his lip and looked away uncomfortably with a rather apologetic air about him. Understanding dawned on Sheila’s holographic face after she and Lopez shared a look.

“We would be a bit harder to explain, Tucker.” Sheila elaborated politely.

“Yeah, a hot magic ghost lady and a hot armored robot aren’t things you see every day.” Kaikaina chimed in, “Which sucks, because I bet that would make one killer porno!”

“Oh yeah!” Tucker grinned and held out his hand for her to high-five, “I would totally watch the hell out of that!”

“¿Esperar lo?” _{“Wait…what?”}_

Sheila tilted her head in consideration, “We could return to headquarters to avoid detection.”

“Aw, no!” Donut pouted, “It just wouldn’t be the same without you guys!”

“Apenas nos conocemos, y no necesariamente quiero estar rodeado de un montón de gente borracha.” _{“We barely even know each other, and I don't necessarily want to be around a bunch of drunk humans besides.”}_

“Now what a minute, guys,” Frank “Doc” DuFresne interjected over whatever it was that Lopez had said, “Can’t we just pretend that Sheila is a designated driver or something? Or a _really_ high-tech personal assistant? And Lopez here can be one of those new helper robots who look after the elderly.”

“What elderly?” Sarge demanded to know.

“¡Decir ah! Si se suponía que estaba cuidando a ese viejo loco, lo dejaría en el bosque.” _{“Ha! If was supposed to be looking after that crazy old man, I would leave him in the woods.”}_

Doc, however, was now fixing his stare onto the shotgun in plain view on Sarge’s back, “Though most buildings do have a firearms code, Sarge.”

“I have a permit, and the dang thing isn’t even loaded!” The older man in red huffed out testily.

“Because you create your own shells whenever you need them, correct?” Doctor Emily Grey spoke up with a glimmer of excited curiosity in her eyes, “That is quite convenient!”

From where she was standing off to the side and observing how things were playing out, Carolina shot her brother an incredulous look, “How do you ever manage to get anything done?” She asked him seriously.

Church rolled his eyes, “We’re working out a system!” He replied tersely.

Caboose, meanwhile, raised his hand up, causing the debate to still, “None of that will be a problem.” He assured everyone rather confidently.

Washington, also hovering on the periphery of the group because former Freelancers just loved being exclusionary _and_ borderline creepy around others, raised a puzzled eyebrow at his statement, “It won’t?” He asked curiously.

Caboose nodded his head, “This place was built for people like us.” He tried explaining, “So we can all be friends!”

Everyone glanced at one another, with the private investigator tag-along Kimball clearing her throat, “You mean this place is a…?” She trailed off, not wanting to voice the term out loud in case it was overheard.

Caboose had already spun around and was stepping inside, everyone else having no choice but to quickly rush to follow or be left behind. As most of them stepped into the tavern known as the LZ, the lights overhead turned blue momentarily. However, they became red when Simmons, Sheila, and Lopez entered.

The brightness of Simmons’ artificial eye increased momentarily as he looked up at the now back-to-normal lighting, “Sensors?” he asked.

“Ones that can differentiate between Specials and augmented objects.” Church frowned upwards himself, purposefully ignoring the offended looks the three beings’ in question momentarily threw his way at that description _(they’d get over it)_ , “That’s pretty high-tech.”

Usually, you only saw that type of shit at high-end government or military facilities, or lucrative enterprises that could dish out a whole lot of money on security. They were still fairly experimental too, so whoever Caboose’s sister was to have such a fine-tuned system, she had _connections_.

Church could feel the two former Freelancers as well as Kimball and even _Sarge_ tensing up as that realization seemed to settle over them as well, though Caboose was simply grinning from ear-to-ear at their flabbergasted reactions, “Tex said you would want it to be a surprise! I am so happy she was right!” He exclaimed happily.

Church blinked, shock replacing his earlier unease, “Hold up, Caboose. _Tex_ helped hook this up?”

“Of _course_ she did.” Carolina muttered flatly under her breath.

Shit, was this one of the safehouses that Tex had used her personal list of contacts from around the city of Chorus to help create? The ones that she never fucking bothered telling him about?

“Caboose, sir!” A deep, pleasant voice sounded from behind the bar counter on the opposite end of the building, “Welcome back!”

A dark-haired man with blue eyes had been wiping down the counter beforehand as the few customers the establishment had around this time seemed content to keep to themselves. He wiped his hands on his tan pants before striding over and inexplicably _saluting_ Caboose, “Your room is just as you left it.”

“Thank you, Smith. It is good to be back.” Caboose told him as more confusion rippled through the group.

“Room?” Church inquired.

“The second floor has living quarters for both owners, as well as employees and potential guests.” The man Caboose called Smith explained.

“Wait up.” Tucker held up a hand in staunch disbelief, “Caboose, you _own_ this place?”

“With my sister.” The blond stated with a vigorous nod, “But Smith looks after things for us.”

“I’m just happy to be of assistance!” The bartender smiled brightly, “You’ve helped me far too much, it is the least I could do.”

Another collective look was shared amongst the Reds and Blues, though Church was _starting_ to put the pieces together. If he was right about this being a safehouse of sorts, then Caboose’s sister was helping Tex with looking out for Specials who might be otherwise exploited by asshole groups like Charon. Specials could come here for a respite from the hazards sometimes even just existing in the outside world brought about. Some, such as Smith here, simply decided to help either out of a sense of gratitude or perhaps because they didn’t really have anywhere else to go.

No wonder Tex hadn’t been too surprised, just borderline amused when she had _“met”_ Caboose for the supposed first time. She had probably had herself a big old chuckle at how damn small the world could be and opted to just not let him in on the joke, the bitch!

Though another, more pressing concern hit Church, “Caboose,” he said slowly, counting to ten in the back of his head, “You mean to tell me I’ve been letting you live rent-free in my house all this time and you actually had your own fucking place?”

“Yeah,” Caboose did not seem to catch on to his friend’s exasperation, “You and Sheila are good people.”

Doc _and_ Tucker had to hold the goateed man back from throttling the younger blond while Sheila smiled kindly, “That is very kind of you to say, Caboose.”

“Any friends of Caboose are more than welcome here.” The dark-haired male smiled even more brightly as a blond-haired girl in a pink waitress outfit ensemble complete with a tan apron walked over, “My name is John Elizabeth Andersmith. Feel free to place any orders with me or Volleyball here when you’re ready.”

“Sweet name!” Kai was quick to try and strike up a conversation with the waitress who appeared to be around her own age before she wandered off again, “Very kinky. I like it!” She winked at the other girl.

Grif groaned from behind his sister and slapped a hand over his eyes, “Goddamn it, Kai!”

“Thanks?” The other girl, named Volleyball, laughed, “I’d like to say it’s because my parents were secretly sadists, but that would be giving them too much credit.”

Kai had plopped herself down into a nearby chair, looking up with half-lidded brown eyes and chin resting in her hands, “Betcha this is a weird place to work at.”

Volleyball shrugged, “It has its moments.” Her eyes flicked down to a bruise on the inside of her elbow that vaguely reminded Church of faded finger grips, though she frowned for only a second before her customer service smile came back, “But I don’t have to pay the rent this way and Andersmith is pretty nice.”

So she was another tenant of the safehouse then. Church wondered briefly if, given her comments and mannerisms, Volleyball had been one of those unfortunate cases of a Special discovering their powers in their teens and then subsequently getting kicked out of the only home and life they had ever known by fearful and ignorant parents. Unfortunately, it fit the profile of far too many incidents.

Once again, Church couldn’t help but wonder why Tex didn’t share too much about this part of her activities with him, choosing to keep him at arm’s length instead. It was _good_ work, and he could fucking help!

Both his girlfriend and sister needed to stop treating him like glass.

Kai and Volleyball had stopped conversing, both glancing over at the few in the group who hadn’t yet started wandering away to do their own things, the waitress looking awkward while Kai just looked peeved, “Move it, assholes!” The tan-skinned young lady in yellow hissed under her breath rather vehemently, “Don’t cockblock me!”

Grif sighed in exasperation, mumbling something about _“embarrassing the family”_ under his breath as he went away with slumped shoulders. Tucker just seemed to be upset that Kai had beat him to the flirting first, though he wasn’t about to risk her wrath by sticking around.

Shaking his head, Church turned to vacate the area as well, noticing that Donut and Doc were now hovering around Caboose, the pink-wearing dirty blond pretty much begging to see Caboose’s apartment because he adored room design and styling while Doc tried valiantly to rein him in. Also, Donut apparently wanted to see his room at Church’s so that he could match décor at both places. Church was definitely not going near there anytime soon, even if he knew Caboose would be ecstatic to show off more of this place to his _“best friend.”_

“Your sister isn’t around by any chance, is she?” Doc asked pleasantly as Church snuck past them, “We should probably introduce ourselves after bursting in here.”

“That’s right!” Donut was quick to chime in with a deep intake of breath, “Talk about being impolite! I always find it really rude when guys shove their way into my hole without even asking first!”

Yeah, Church hadn’t vacated the area quickly enough. How much booze affected short-term memory, again?

“Oh, it’s okay! She is at her other job now because she is always so busy.” Caboose explained, oblivious to how Donut’s remark sounded, “But she always says that when I make friends I should bring them over.”

“That’s so sweet!” Donut gushed as he turned around to the brown-haired, bespectacled man next to him, “Have any siblings yourself, Doc?”

There was nervous laughter at the focus turning on him then, “W—well…” Doc trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

Church was just starting to tune everything out into a far more pleasant din of white background noise when a chair at the table he was walking by was kicked out directly into his oncoming path. “Fuck!” he breathed out sharply upon it making fateful impact with his body. He winced and reached down to grab at his definitely-going-to-be-bruised shins, “What the—”

The outside world sucked ass, especially when he wasn’t laughing at all the losers in their corporeal, fleshy bodies while he zipped along in his digitized form. Then again, home life sucked ass too a lot of the time.

Maybe things just fucking sucked in general.

“Hey,” an amused, familiar voice spoke up from the table as he finished his not-at-all overreacting groaning, “Have a seat.”

He glared at the dark-eyed blonde who so obviously thought that had been far too clever a joke in light of his predicament _not_ to voice out loud, judging by the unconcealed mirth swimming in Tex’s eyes. She was grinning, already moving her black booted leg up to join its companion on the chair next to the one she was currently sitting in.

“You fucking planned that, didn’t you?” Church shot over at her accusingly, nevertheless sitting down in the proffered chair with an agitated huff.

“Only when I noticed you weren’t paying attention, dumbass.” Tex informed him cheerily.

“What are you even doing here?” He decided to change tactics before he said something that could possibly get him dumped yet again or, more likely, get his ass kicked, “And why didn’t you tell me you helped Caboose’s sister make a safehouse?”

She blinked at the obvious frustration in his voice, “I would have if I felt it was important.” Tex finally stated at length before she shrugged, “But you knew I set up spots like this already, so…”

She trailed off and he glared at her questioningly, “This isn’t going to drag Caboose or his family into anything dangerous, is it?” Church asked.

Tex stared at him with obvious amusement, “It’s sweet that you care, Church.”

He grit his teeth at that, “Tex.”

“You know me and what this support network is meant to do. I’m trying to keep people safe, you nerd.” She informed him rather succinctly before sweeping her eyes around the room, “Honestly, your team might be putting a bigger target on your friends’ backs than something like this ever could.”

Church winced because Tex definitely had him there. She told him that quite plainly before when he had first asked her for her opinion on the idea, though she had agreed it definitely had merits too. Now with Washington and Carolina also on his back…

He groaned and put his head in his hands over the table, “So what the fuck am I supposed to do?” Church stated in frustration, “Should I really just sit back, do _nothing_ , and let you and Carolina run off to do your superhero ass-kicking?”

Doing nothing but what he had been told had helped put lots of people in the ground. He wanted to act on his own and do fucking _better_ now. Keep everyone safe.

There was a suffocating silence following his outburst, broken only by Tex letting out a heavy sigh, “You know, I honestly don’t think you should be too worried about that.” She finally got out as she once again glanced over the assorted oddballs gathered around them, “These guys are surprisingly decent all things considered, especially together.”

It was probably the closest thing he would get to reassurance from her, and Church gaped across the table’s expanse, “You were watching?”

Tex nodded, “Of course. I wanted to see if you’d need bailing out or if you could actually hack it.”

He rolled his eyes again, “I thought you told me the team could be helpful!” Church grumbled out.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still be concerned, cockbite.”

There was an awkward silence between them as it seeped in that she had revealed more than she had probably intended to with that comment. Tex averted her eyes from Church and his sudden blushing, and he coughed to cover it up before shooting her a grateful look once he got his reaction under control.

“You did better than I thought you might for your first go at it,” Tex told him, “Even with the added shock of the Triplets and Carolina.”

“Yeah.” He grinned, shaking his head, “Fuck, if Sis had caught wind of you being around too—!”

The sound of a heavy glass being slammed down hard on top of a table’s surface directly behind him cut Church off, and he shuddered at the sudden tenseness and unease he felt hanging in the air all around them. Simply seeing Tex’s expression ice over into a more guarded one had him knowing exactly who he would find drilling holes through them both with the sheer force of their patented death glare even without turning around, the air around them picking up to cement his suspicions.

Tex tilted her head slightly, apparently not bothered by his sibling’s glowering as much as he was as Church reluctantly turned around, “Carolina.” The blonde said in greeting.

“Tex.” Carolina practically spat the name out, not paying attention to the puddle of spilled alcohol surrounding the now completely empty and cracked glass in front of her as green eyes landed on Church and he instinctively flinched, “Church, we’ll talk later.” The redhead said through clenched teeth.

Well, fuck, so much for their mutual attempt at argument avoidance.

Without another word or glance their way, Carolina promptly and rigidly stood up to make her way to the door. She paused only long enough to say a curt goodbye to Sheila, Caboose, and Tucker, firmly putting extra money into Caboose’s hand to give to Andersmith for the mess.

Church’s brain unfroze in just enough time for him to bolt up as she disappeared. Shit, they shouldn’t leave things like this _again_.

A hand resting on his shoulder halted him. The woman called Vanessa Kimball handed him a business card before he could even think to rip away from her grip in protest, “If I can be of any help later, don’t hesitate to get in touch.” She stated in response to his questioning gaze a moment later, her brown eyes flickering over to the now firmly shut again door, “I’d like to talk with her privately, if you don’t mind.”

He frowned but reluctantly nodded, knowing that Carolina wouldn’t be in the mood to talk to him right now anyways. Which sucked, but why was everything so goddamned fucking complicated?

“Speaking of,” Doctor Grey called out from a nearby table as Kimball left, “I’d love to sign up too.” She smiled sweetly and her tone was light, but there was a glint in her eyes that had him flinching again, “These data thieves are going to think twice before stealing patient information from me again!”

Sarge laughed, an odd bit of redness to his cheeks as he cast what nearly could be mistaken for a warm glance the dark-skinned woman’s way, “We could exchange addresses too, if you’d like, Doctor Grey. Since you were talking about wanting to see my workshop before.” The older man said almost shyly.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea!” The doctor clapped her hands together in outright giddiness, “It’s so rare for me to engage in interactions with others outside of work these days. Sometimes you just _really_ need to keep sawing into something so that you’re elbow-deep in innards or wiring until you just _know_ what makes it tick to put your mind at ease.”

The two were smiling at one another in an absolutely disconcerting way to anyone else who might be observing them, and Church shivered at the sudden thought about how that probably constituted _flirting_ to the pair. Lopez was even less subtle in his body language.

“... Realmente desearía poder beber en este punto.” _{“...I really wish I could drink at this point.”}_

Whatever lament the robot had said, Sheila attempted to console him over it by trying to pat his shoulder despite having no tangible form herself. Lopez looked over at her gratefully as Church tore his gaze back to the once again closed door, his hand clenching around the business card in his grip so much that it crumpled.

He was well aware of Tex regarding him carefully, though neither of them opted to say a word about the incident for the rest of the evening.

*****

When Vanessa Kimball stepped outside, she had honestly been expecting to only find a vacant street. After all, Carolina could _fly_ and she had left the LZ in a hurry.

But a part of her had hoped that she could find a trace of the other woman still. After all, the redhead had approached her first and as much as events had developed in rather interesting ways since then, neither of them had really been able to discuss just why. Carolina obviously had quite a few issues in regards to letting others in. That she had even attempted to do so at all had Kimball thinking that there was a _reason_ for it, one that she would be much better served actually understanding.

So, Kimball had stepped out into the night air in the vain hope of finding some sort of trail to follow, a clue as to where a person like Carolina might go to mull over her thoughts.

She was, admittedly, surprised to find Carolina herself standing only about a block away, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows furrowed as she regarded the cracked sidewalk underneath her feet. It looked as though the redhead was inwardly debating what her next move should be, hesitating because she possibly wanted to go back inside but was trying to actively resist the impulse.

She looked up as Kimball approached, “Want to talk about it?” Kimball asked.

Carolina shot her a look as if to say the answer to that should be obvious. It was, actually.

“No.” Carolina paused, frown deepening as she tried to elaborate, “I’ll admit this whole thing is unsettling, especially if my brother and his friends are going to be involving themselves in it from here on out.”

Concern and frustration laced her words, seeping into her uneasy body language. Carolina pretty much fought anything that came her way, and dealing with things where she couldn’t just go out and directly do just that obviously made her wholly uncomfortable.

There was a weariness in Carolina’s demeanor too, as if the weight of a million things were always pressing down on her shoulders and she was still trying her very hardest _not_ to let it show even as it seeped out through the cracks and her own responses betrayed her.

Kimball could relate. She was also more than a bit in awe because Carolina had so adeptly been covering all of that up with her easy-to-surface anger before, as if she felt that was a more expected thing to allow others to see. It was a tactic to try and keep everyone at arm’s length that only lessened in extreme moments where she was lost enough in thought to not be as mindful about her outward demeanor.

It was also hard to watch.

She quickly shook that thought from her mind, “Do you think that what you’ve been chasing and Charon are somehow connected?” Kimball inquired.

The other female pursed her lips, “ _He_ , it…is hunting Specials.” Carolina stated, moving along before Kimball could really delve into that apparent pronoun slipup and what it meant, “Charon has been out gathering data on known Specials and have even begun targeting some of them.”

“Hmm.” Kimball tapped a finger to her chin in thought, “It could be a coincidence, but it could also be a much larger conspiracy.”

Which would only add to the rising tensions in Chorus and the world over with all of the registry talk now taking place and the recent escalation of violent incidents involving Specials if it were true.

“Neither issue can be ignored.” Carolina said, gripping her fists painfully tight at her sides.

Kimball let out a small sigh, “Agreed.” She looked Carolina dead in the eyes when she turned to regard the private investigator questioningly, “I’d like to help in whatever way I can.”

Carolina started at the dark-skinned woman as if waiting for some kind of term or condition to be made apparent along with her offer, but when none was forthcoming she closed her eyes briefly and looked away, “Thank you.” She muttered.

“Your brother’s team idea isn’t exactly terrible given the circumstances.” Kimball tried, emboldened by the sudden display of genuine sincerity Carolina had instilled into those two words, “Helping them out from time to time might provide you with leads too.”

After all, they hadn’t really had a team of Specials trying to actually improve things since, well, _Freelancer_ had split apart. Having a team try to correct the mistakes of that organization that had helped in no small way to lead them all to this point, well, how could that be bad?

She maybe had pushed things a bit too far in this instance though, because Carolina fixed Kimball with a blank stare and said nothing in response. When the former Freelancer quickly turned and continued walking away, however, it was obvious that she was very much lost in thought.

*****

As much fun as chumming it up and getting plastered after a job well done was, and shit did he feel like he could use a few good swigs after the near standoff they had all just fortunately dodged between Tex and Carolina, Lavernius Tucker _was_ something of a responsible adult now thanks to trying his best to raise his son. No matter what assholes like Church might say on the subject.

He doubted very much that either Jensen or Junior would be all that thrilled to have him stumble in drunk, and he was fairly certain he was already paying his teenaged babysitter enough for college if she didn’t have high enough grades for scholarships already. So increasing that even more to make up for a drunk occurrence would probably leave him well and truly broke.

Not to mention, how would he ever make that up to Junior?

Tucker forced himself to only nurse one beer, and when Caboose mentioned there being an outside deck behind the bar to a still present Washington, he waited a few minutes more than he really wanted to before heading after the former Freelancer himself. Gotta make nice with the neighbors, right? Even if they were stalkers and lurkers.

Andersmith gave him a small smile and nod as he passed by before turning his attention to the cyborg currently sitting at the counter, who was unexpectedly on his second drink of the night already. The redhead’s eyes were plastered onto a news broadcast overhead, a newscast with that rather hot journalist lady talking about something involving explosions from the looks of things. Didn’t seem to be about their fight with the Triplets and their backup, so Tucker didn’t care much to stop and listen in even as Andersmith adjusted the volume given Simmons’ apparent interest.

Sure enough, Tucker found Washington standing on the edge of the deck that overlooked a surprisingly nice view of a park, gray eyes scanning every single shadow or darkened crevice he could discern out there with his hands gripping onto the banister so tightly that he might just break the whole thing off any second.

Tucker raised an eyebrow at the sight and purposefully coughed to gain the freckled blond-haired male’s attention since he suspected, judging by Washington’s body language, walking up without any warning might be a good way to get his arm broken, “Shit, dude, don’t you _ever_ give it a rest?” He asked incredulously.

Washington turned around to regard Tucker with his customary frown firmly in place, “This has nothing to do with being alert for an attack.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Tucker observed as he took another sip of his beer.

“With so many Specials here, and the security this place no doubt is hiding, an attack seems very unlikely unless something truly major occurs.” Washington told him, a sudden unsure light in his gray eyes as he looked down at the flooring of the deck, “I just needed to think.”

Tucker frowned at the man’s tone, noting that the former Freelancer _was_ acting a bit off from his customary angry and distrustful self. He seemed more hesitant.

“This has to do with Carolina showing up and those three water weirdos who were stealing all the files, right?” Tucker finally surmised.

A momentary look of shock flickered across Washington’s face at the accurate deduction, “How did you…?” He trailed off, clearly not wanting to talk any more than necessary.

Tucker harrumphed under his breath and waved his free hand dismissively, “Bitch, _please_.” He stated smugly, “I’m way more observant than people give me credit for. It’s one of my many awesome talents.”

“I see.” Washington looked doubtful about that last part in particular, but he broke eye contact suddenly and nodded in response to Tucker’s earlier question regardless, “Seeing Carolina again so soon after Church and Tex was hard enough, but the Triplets’ involvement with Charon now has me worried.”

“Because they’re friends of yours.” Tucker guessed.

Washington nodded, “No one knew why they just disappeared one day.” He muttered more to himself, “But it seems like Freelancer did end up having a hand in it after all.”

“Yeah, you guys really needed to read that fine print before you signed on with those assholes.” Tucker stated, remembering far too well the states that Church, Tex, and Carolina had been in when he first met them. Granted, he really wondered if Church or Carolina in particular had much of a choice in their involvement with the project. Maybe the jerks in charge of it had actively sought out others who wouldn’t be in much of a position to say no either when they were doing their recruitment drive, though he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to really try to ask any of them that. No doubt Washington and those Triplets had been through some nasty shit too, by all accounts.

Washington didn’t reply, and he had a haunted, rather faraway look on his face that very much confirmed Tucker’s suspicions on the subject.

Knowing enough not to pry further, Tucker sighed, “If you decide to stick around with us for a while, I have a feeling we’ll be running into them sooner or later.” He suggested.

He wasn’t sure why he was offering that given that his new neighbor wasn’t exactly the friendliest of sorts, but it felt like the right thing to do if nothing else. Had to keep setting those good examples for Junior even if it kind of kicked his ass in the end, right?

Washington nodded his head slowly, still looking rather lost in thought, “You might be right.”

“Dude, I’m _always_ right!” Tucker said as he grinned.

Washington leveled a blank stare his way, but instead of calling bullshit on Tucker’s apparent bravado, he smiled slightly moments later, “I’m curious about what Charon is up to,” he stated finally as if he had made up his mind, “And it might be a good idea to stick around for a while longer just to make sure none of you get killed.”

Tucker’s grin widened as he patronizingly saluted the former Freelancer with his still half-full beer bottle, “That’s the fucking spirit!” He barked out.

Washington rolled his eyes though there was a slight quirking upwards at the sides motion of his mouth all the same as he stared contemplatively over at Tucker once more, “I take it that means you’ll be sticking around for a while too?”

“Seems like it.” Tucker stated, glancing out at the park in thought himself, “If only to help protect Junior and the city somehow.” He smirked as Washington moved to join him, “Today actually wasn’t so bad.”

“No,” Washington admitted softly, though his expression hardened a brief moment later, “But you all still have a ways to go yet.”

Tucker rolled his eyes and sipped his beer again, “You are _such_ a buzzkill.” He said, laughing loudly to himself as the steel- and yellow-wearing man tried sputtering out a lame defense.

*****

_“…The explosion occurred on the outskirts of Chorus, with a number of casualties already being reported and more expected.”_ Intrepid reporter Dylan Andrews stated as the camera shifted focus to take in the massive fireball and billowing smoke behind her that firefighters were still struggling to keep contained, _“It should be noted that this is the fifth such attack in three months, with this particular military and research facility_ also _having a working history with the now defunct Specials team known as Freelancer.”_

The camera once again shifted back to the brown-haired and brown-eyed Dylan, _“Whether there is a correlation or these buildings are being targeted due to their involvement with the ongoing governmental efforts to further register Specials remains to be seen, as no demands or claims have yet been made.”_

Richard “Dick” Simmons gulped down the remaining half of his drink, making a face at how it burned all the way down his throat. A sinking feeling was filling the pit of his stomach, and he wondered if this was something that Church already knew about. There was something weirdly _familiar_ about the whole thing, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. He certainly had never been involved in any type of explosions, so _what_ was it? He frowned and quickly drank the rest of his burning, horrible-tasting beverage.

“It’s terrible that these attacks keep happening, especially with how tense things are now.” Andersmith stated sympathetically as he glanced up at the television news report himself.

Simmons ignored the way his still organic eye was watering up, “T—tell me about it.”

The black-haired man smiled gently, “But hopefully they’ll be able to catch whoever is doing it soon.”

Simmons nodded his head in quiet agreement, desperately wanting that to be the case too.

Trying to shake his mind away from the senseless, altogether terrible tragedy, he turned slightly in his seat. His vision landed on Kai and Volleyball, apparently now _really_ hitting it off. The blonde would come back over to Kai’s table whenever she finished taking an order or bringing one out, both young women positively beaming.

Feeling as though he were intruding, he quickly averted his gaze as his face reddened. Everyone else seemed currently at ease while he…

Well, places and situations like this always made him feel all the more anxious and nervous, even though he knew just how impressive the security here was thanks to his embedded scanning tech. He couldn’t help it though! He had always been awkward and anxious around others, and that had only intensified ever since…

He swallowed, his throat painfully dry again as he shifted awkwardly in his seat once more.

“Um, may I have another?” Simmons asked Andersmith, even surprising himself with the request. He couldn’t stand the taste of alcohol usually, and he made it a point to never drink too much, but maybe his nerves were getting the better of him. He felt like he _really_ needed to keep drinking, if only to divert his mind for awhile and to sate this thirst that was just _not_ going away.

“So you’re going to nerd it up even in a place like this and just sit by yourself to watch the _news_?” A smug voice sounded from surprisingly close to his ear, “That is just fucking sad, kiss-ass.”

Simmons nearly jumped off of his seat at Grif’s unexpected proximity, the flesh and blood portions of his face turning a bright red in embarrassment. Thankfully, a humming Andersmith had gone to talk to Caboose when the large blond-haired man waved him over after leaving his new drink on the counter.

That embarrassed emotion quickly flared into agitation when Dexter Grif sat down next to him, an all-too pleased with himself smirk plastered on his tan face. The chubby asshole had done that on purpose!

“I don’t…I don’t really go to places like this.” Simmons muttered lamely in his own weak defense, though even _that_ was something of a stretch. In reality, this was his first time having stepped foot in a bar and he had never been able to work up the nerve to be a sad, lonely wallflower at those pity invites to parties he so rarely managed to get before he had been kidnapped. But like fuck was he going to reveal something that pathetic to Grif.

“Really?” The fake disbelief was practically dripping from Grif’s tone, and Simmons hated the way his stomach did a little flip at the mischievous glint dancing in the mocking jerk’s brown eyes since he was probably slightly tipsy, all things considered, “I wouldn’t have been able to tell.”

Simmons rolled his eyes at the taunt, “Oh, yeah? Well, what does it say about you that you’re choosing to hang around with me then? Huh?”

The redhead couldn’t help but smirk at his own challenge. By his own logic, hanging out with Simmons willingly meant that Grif was pretty pathetic too. Take _that_ , fat-ass!

The cyborg was just starting to frown at the building realization that he had pretty much _just_ confirmed his own inherent pathetic-ness with that taunt when Grif dismissively shrugged in response, “You’re still the best company here right now.” He informed Simmons, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at the assembled group, “Not that the bar for that is set ridiculously high or anything.”

Simmons blinked, wide-eyed and in open shock over the statement. He felt what served as his heart these days pick up speed ever so slightly and he bit down on the urge to desperately, hopefully ask _“Really?”_ that he suddenly very much felt due to his constant and inescapable need for validation.

He coughed awkwardly instead, turning his head as he gulped down some of his new drinking glass’ contents so that hopefully his cybernetics covered the blush that was stubbornly refusing to fade from the freckled portion of his face. Then he had to cough for real because his throat once again felt like it was on _fire_.

Grif watched him with something akin to mild amusement again, “That good, huh?” He finally spoke up.

Simmons was quick to shake his head as he glared down at the offending liquid still in the glass in his hand, “I—it’s fucking awful, really.” He told Grif, frowning slightly in contemplation, “But I keep feeling like I need to drink something, so I forget what it tastes like and…”

He trailed off as realization started to form through the fuzziness in his brain, especially with how Grif’s smirk continued growing knowingly the more that Simmons had talked. He set the glass down and glared at who he now knew was the cause of his inexplicable thirst, _“You.”_ The cyborg spoke out through gritted teeth.

Grif remained annoyingly nonplussed at the accusation, which only confirmed Simmons’ suspicions about what had been going on and further frustrated him even before the black-haired man finally spoke up, “Hey, I just figured you needed help getting the edge off.” Grif said apathetically.

“Y—you shouldn’t use your power like that!” Simmons protested.

Another shrug, “Believe me, Simmons, that kind of subtle nudging is pretty harmless.” The orange-wearing man looked momentarily nostalgic, “It was one of the first tricks I learned to do when I was trying to figure out what I was capable of.”

There was a slight edge to the heavyset man’s voice then, a noticeable darkening of his tan features as if he was recalling something keenly unpleasant. For a brief second, Simmons wondered about the extent of Grif’s abilities and thought about what little he knew of the other man’s past. What had he done, _been forced to do_ , in order to ensure that he and Kai would be okay, to be so all right with the notion of manipulating others’ emotions even in such a slight, casual way like that without there being a life-threatening reason to do so?

Simmons both desperately wanted to know and understand it, and yet he was terrified of what the answer to that line of thinking might be. He simply shuddered somewhat as Grif quickly schooled his expression into the more apathetic one that Simmons knew to be both true to his personality to a large extent but also served as a conflicting, contradictory mask to cover up his actual thoughts and feelings.

Simmons pushed those observations down for the moment to focus on the understandable indignation he still felt instead, “Th—that doesn’t mean you can—!”

“Dude, chill.” Grif cut him off with an exasperated wave of his hand, “I was just trying to do you a favor as thanks for helping Kai out earlier.” He explained, “I figured you might enjoy tonight more if you were slightly buzzed.”

Simmons stared at him incredulously, unsure of what to make of the fact that Grif honestly seemed to think he had been paying Simmons back somehow. If that was how he showed gratitude, then… The maroon-wearing man swallowed thickly, this time very much ignoring his dry throat, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

Grif shrugged indifferently again as if that was the end of the conversation before glancing up at the television himself in a rather bored fashion. Simmons regarded him for a few moments longer before sighing to himself, figuring that was probably the end of that particular discussion.

In the oddly comfortable silence they had lapsed into, Simmons turned around in his seat to see what the others were up to out of mild curiosity, “Uh,” his face heated up again as he quickly turned back around to face the now incredibly fascinating countertop, “I think your sister is about to give Volleyball a lap dance.”

Exasperation suffused every feature on Grif’s face as he let out a weary-sounding groan before jumping up from his seat to go and stop her, “Goddamn it, Kai!” He shouted out in frustration.

In the split-second following Grif’s hasty departure over to Kai’s table, Simmons stood up himself. He waved goodbye to Church and the others before stepping outside, already wanting to kick himself for the realization that he would definitely be seeing everyone again.

*****

Quite a few of the other Reds and Blues _(man, it was silly how that name apparently stuck)_ had already vacated the LZ by the time Dexter Grif finally left, though he had really only stuck around as long as he had to ensure that Kai would hopefully stay out of trouble and to get her to promise that she would head back home soon.

Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly making a beeline for the hard-earned roof over their heads himself. Rather, he was walking along the darkened streets of Blood Gulch while mulling over recent events.

Even _more_ of those Freelancer assholes had shown up, which wasn’t exactly putting him at ease with the current situation he and Kai were in. And it definitely seemed like this whole _“team”_ business was going to be sticking around for a while, much to his chagrin.

It was just a whole lot of complications that he didn’t fucking need, especially considering how much of his life he had already spent either dealing with or trying to avoid unnecessary complications.

…He was just _tired_.

To make things even more complicated and shitty because that was just how things always were for him, Grif was _still_ avoiding giving those creepy park guys an answer. Mainly because he was pretty fucking sure he knew who they were working for already, and because even though it seemed like they were giving him an illusion of choice that was all it really was and that seriously pissed him off. They knew about him and Kai, they knew what Church was up to, and they had even been in his _fucking house_. The threat to get him to fall in line was all too apparent.

He couldn’t keep avoiding that forever and risking Kai getting hurt. Grif paused on the sidewalk, letting out an exhausted sigh.

For some reason, he was also rather disappointed that Simmons had bailed out so much earlier, even though interacting too much with any of these Reds and Blues assholes was going to undoubtedly bite him in the ass later.

He couldn’t help it though. The lanky redhead was a blast to tease and wasn’t actually that bad of company. Getting reactions out of him was oddly fun, and Grif found himself genuinely relieved to know that the cyborg was probably sticking around for this whole Reds and Blues bullshit too.

Even if that complicated things, and he usually just wanted to say _“fuck it”_ to any and all complications. It was perplexing and confusing, to say the least, but not nearly as unwelcome as he would have thought. He was pretty sure that just meant that he was a fucking mess though.

“Help!”

Grif started at the utterly terrified voice exclaiming from around the corner, ripping him away from his frustrating thoughts.

A teenage boy with glasses and who was wearing a tan shirt with yellow pants was trying to run towards his direction, only to be grabbed violently around the shoulders by two totally suspicious-looking men in dark suits who proceeded to drag him backwards.

They had been too distracted trying to contain the thrashing young man, so none of them had noticed Grif, who was debating inwardly if he should actually get involved or not.

He definitely noted the tears running down the panic-stricken teen’s face as they pulled him away and the obvious metal cuffs tying his wrists together, and he sighed. It wasn’t like he could ignore a kidnapping, especially when it was happening right in front of him.

Reluctantly, he ran to catch up with the assholes and their still struggling victim.

There was an unmarked, dark-windowed van around the street corner _(not at all creepy or fucked up, nope!)_ , and two more suit guys came out of the vehicle to help haul the poor kid into the open back. One of them had what looked like a syringe in their hand as they all approached the captive as if dealing with a frightened, wild animal.

…Which was probably not all that far removed from how they actually viewed their target, Grif realized with a grimace. And then he got fucking pissed.

“Hey, asswipes!” Grif shouted out before he had time to think of a better plan.

_That_ got their attention, the men all looking over at him in annoyance for the interruption to their work while the teen stared at him with imploring, wide hazel-colored eyes.

Grif wondered briefly if he had enough time to really get their hostile emotions going as they pushed the boy backwards onto the ground to deal with the interloper in their midst, to confuse and incite them enough to turn on one another in fits of jealousy and rage. He had done so before in the past. It served as a great distraction, and if his intended targets had managed to knock themselves out without him having been seen back then, just another example as to why emotional and mental health screenings for certain jobs were a good idea.

But they had already seen him, and it took _a lot_ of energy and finesse to do that sort of thing in order to get the desired results instead of having a bunch of berserkers vent their aggravation out on him or, worse yet, the kid now struggling to get up on his feet again with his hands still bound. But the sedative the one asshole was still gripping in his dumb fist gave Grif an idea that would be just as effective in the quiet, empty streets without nearly as much work on his end.

“Night, night. Assholes.” Grif muttered as he reached out, sensing the emotions resonating within the four goons and adding an overwhelming layer throughout all of them that he was oh so keenly familiar with himself these days.

It worked like a charm. The would-be abductors were out like lights on the ground in crumpled over heaps before they even had the chance to properly yawn. Grif was almost envious, but knew they didn’t have too much time before something could wake them up again.

“Kid,” Grif whispered urgently as he hurried over to the auburn-haired youth just as he managed to pull himself up, “We need to go. _Now_.” He only took a moment to glance at the teen in an assessing manner, “You all right?”

Probably a dumb question given the circumstances, but it never hurt to ask.

“Y—yes, sir!” The teenager shakily nodded, adrenaline and fear still coursing through his veins even as he looked immensely relieved by this change of events, “Thank you so much!”

“Don’t thank me until we’re as far away from these dicks as possible.” Grif told the younger male curtly before he started to walk away with the still cuffed boy hot on his heels, “Do you live around here, or know a place we could hide at…?” He trailed off, realizing that he didn’t even know the teen’s name yet.

The would-be victim nodded his head vigorously once more in response to Grif’s question and, as if sensing why Grif hadn’t continued speaking even before the heavyset man attempted to ask him for his name later, he added, “It’s…it’s Matthews, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days, I might actually write a multi-chaptered story that does not involve a scene with people hanging out at a bar or restaurant, but since that is also probably going to happen in the next planned update of _Avalanche_ , it won’t be anytime soon! XD …Help me, I have a problem! :)
> 
> Three more Lieutenants were introduced in this update, huzzah! :) And, yes, you have probably already guessed the identity of Caboose’s mysterious pilot sister because I totally made it obvious and I absolutely love that head-canon. :D
> 
> I tried to hint around at several different plot threads that will majorly come into play as the story progresses in this chapter, and while some of those might not seem too terribly connected now, how they actually do all tie together shall be revealed in due time! *insert maniacal laughter here*
> 
> Kimball and Tucker both have it bad for their respective crushes already but, dang, are Grif and Simmons still in denial over those pesky “funny feelings”! :D Also, Kai totally gave Volleyball that lap dance the second Grif left. WE ALL KNOWS IT! XD
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


	13. Chapter Twelve: Thawing Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

The frantic, loud, and incessant pounding on what sounded like his neighbor’s door caused Richard “Dick” Simmons to awaken only scant seconds after it had started, and he couldn’t help but curse the ridiculously thin walls as well as his own heightened senses.

But the redhead’s annoyance was quickly overshadowed by a surge of sudden fear. Could the people he had escaped from have tracked him down to this shitty apartment building? He felt warmth flooding to his artificial hand as a precautionary instinct.

He doubted they would be so thorough as to get the door wrong, since the mysterious group always struck him as being scarily efficient. Waking up all the neighbors wouldn’t be something they’d want to do either. They were silent and quick. Like ninjas. Scary ass ninjas.

So the knocking was more-than-likely just some inconsiderate jackass’ doing.

The light building up in and around his arm dissipated as he embraced that scenario as the most likely one. Simmons tried to calm down his jumbled nerves and overworked circuitry by rolling over and wrapping his thin blanket around himself in a vain attempt to fall back asleep as the knocking continued.

…Until an all-too familiar voice in a rather bored-sounding tone suddenly spoke up over the noise and filtered in to his apartment from the hallway: _“Not that I don’t doubt your sense of direction, but are you sure this is the right place?”_

Simmons’ eyes opened wide again at Dexter Grif’s words. Heard here. In this apartment building. His sanctuary away from all of the Reds and Blues.

_“I—I know my own apartment number, sir!”_ The stuttering, nervous voice that responded back to Grif belonged to the cyborg’s teenaged neighbor Matthews, _“I’m…I’m sure my parents will be along a—any minute!”_

Given that Simmons was sympathetic to Matthews due to rather similar familial situations, he wondered if what the auburn-haired teen said would indeed be the case. None of it explained what the young man was doing pounding so urgently on his own door in the early hours of the morning though, alone in the hallway with one Dexter Grif.

Simmons got up and pulled open his own door not a second later, a _“What the fuck are you doing here?”_ directed at Grif just as a door a few doors down opened and Antoine Bitters glared sleepily at Matthews, _“You forgot your key again, didn’t you?”_ shot in his direction.

There was an awkward pause following the questions, especially when Bitters and Simmons both got a fairly good look at how disheveled the two standing in the hallway looked. Anxiety curled around Simmons’ core at the realization that there were what appeared to be fucking _cuffs_ still on the auburn-haired youth’s wrists.

“What the fuck happened?!?” Both he and Bitters urgently demanded at the same time, quickly emerging into the hallway from their respective apartments.

While a sheepish Matthews quailed under their intense regard, Grif simply let out a long-suffering sigh and rubbed the back of his head, “I should have figured this would happen the second I try to do something halfway decent.” He muttered to no one in particular.

*****

The datapad beeped once more, indicating that his message was taking its time getting through all of the encrypted back-channels that they insisted David Washington use on the rare occasions when he decided to contact them. Washington tried stamping down his growing annoyance at having to wait, his foot pounding on his apartment floor’s hard wooden surface.

_“Agent Washington.”_ Malcolm Hargrove’s greeting was as icy and sarcastic as ever when he finally got through, _“So good to hear from you again after so long.”_

…Like the older man really cared if one of his double agent lackeys contacted him anymore than what the terms of their agreement dictated. Washington rolled his gray eyes, glad that they never used a video feed option for these chats.

“I don’t have to report in at all, you know.” Washington muttered testily in response.

_“That would be a rather large shame, don’t you think?”_ Hargrove’s tone took on that fake conversational one he always used while playing at being a humanitarian to the general public, _“Especially since we both want the same thing.”_

Namely the exact whereabouts of the Meta. It was the only reason that Washington had been willing to put up with this farce of an alliance. That particular remnant of Project Freelancer was far too dangerous to let roam free, and he at least owed it to the memory of his buddy Maine to try and keep his overpowered, mindless body from continuing its relentless killing spree.

Washington scoffed, “We’re not the only ones.”

_“Might you be referring to Agent Carolina?”_ Hargrove questioned, not really giving the blond-haired man time to answer before going on to his next question, _“Does her presence also concern you?”_

Concern. Yes, it concerned him just like how the involvement of the Reds and Blues did. Concern was one of the reasons he decided to tag along with them so much. In response to Hargrove’s query, he shrugged, “Not really. She is more than capable of taking care of herself,” Washington’s eyes narrowed in thought, “And it’s not like she’ll get very far on her own.”

Yes, Carolina was far too stubborn to ask for help or assistance from others, and past experiences would have her keeping Church and his friends at arm’s length for anything as dangerous as the Meta situation was. He could actually understand her reasoning far too well.

_“Do you feel that the team the younger Church has assembled will be a problem?”_ Hargrove asked, _“You have been associating with them a bit more than necessary.”_

Ah, leave it to Hargrove to keep tabs on him too, just to ensure that he kept to their bargain. Still, the older man didn’t sound annoyed or frustrated. Hargrove had come across as more infuriatingly bemused, really. Which kind of pissed Washington off more, but he stamped down on that irritation too.

“You don’t seem too shocked,” Washington observed instead, “I’m surprised you don’t disapprove.”

_“That is because currently I do not care.”_ The former Freelancer could almost picture the thin smile that never quite met the old man’s eyes as Hargrove patronizingly added, _“Don’t worry, we are currently monitoring the situation and will only ever ask you to step in should it prove absolutely necessary.”_

Washington hated how much relief he felt at that statement.

_“Currently, I’m more focused on other tasks that still need to be completed.”_ Hargrove noted rather distantly, _“Such as reclaiming information on Specials that were compiled by Freelancer and given to less deserving sources.”_

Washington raised an eyebrow inquisitively, wondering how someone could consider a facility such as a hospital _“less deserving”_ of medical information.

“Isn’t that what you have the Triplets doing?” Washington asked before bitterly adding, “You never informed me that they were working for you too.”

Of course he wasn’t stupid or naïve enough to believe that Hargrove wasn’t keeping him in the dark. But considering that the Triplets were his friends and no one from Freelancer had ever bothered telling him what had happened to them…! Well, he was _pissed_.

_“The…Triplets, is it?”_ Hargrove seemed amused by the name, _“They are collecting simpler and easier to obtain pieces of intel than what you will be going after.”_ Washington could picture the older man raising an eyebrow too as he continued, _“Is this really an issue considering that you aren’t even teammates anymore?”_

“Not really,” Washington tried convincing himself that wasn’t a lie and failed miserably at it, “But I’d still prefer them not to be involved in anything too risky.” The blond let out a tired sigh, “Likewise, I would like some assurance that whatever plans you might have for Specials in the area, it won’t be anything too dangerous.”

_“There is no progress without risk, Agent Washington,”_ Hargrove’s voice lacked any of the amusement that had laced it before, _“And I feel you have been making more than enough demands on us as it is.”_

“I know that, but…!”

_“Simply focus on your retrieval assignments.”_ Hargrove cut Washington off rather curtly, _“Our other agents will handle the rest.”_

The line went completely dead, signaling the end of the conversation. Washington sighed, wondering yet again what exactly he had gotten himself into and if it was truly worth it.

He was quickly distracted from his troubled musings by a loud knock on his door, and was further surprised to find Junior and Tucker in the doorway. He supposed it being a weekend was one of the main reasons the boy was still up, even picturing Junior making Tucker promise he would wake him the second he came back from his mission. The boy seemed happy and excited to just be reunited with his father after their day of separation earlier.

“Hey, man, are you hungry?” Tucker asked Washington without any preamble, “Because I make a killer Mac and Cheese and we always have a shit-ton of extras.”

Washington blinked, trying to process what was happening and failing miserably, “It’s early morning.” He finally stated lamely.

“Like there’s ever a wrong time for Mac and Cheese.” Tucker scoffed at the notion before grinning down conspiratorially at his son, “Am I right, little dude, or what?”

Washington wanted to argue that it was simply far too early for them to even be up, but Junior happily nodding his head in response to his father’s question and then turning his large, pleading brown eyes onto Washington gave him pause.

…Especially when he saw the same look reflected on his dad’s face a moment later.

Despite the tiredness that always struck him after his dealings with Hargrove, Washington smiled, “You know what? That actually sounds like a good breakfast.” He said, schedule concerns forgotten.

The blond stepped into the hallway along with father and son, though Tucker seemed to notice his shoulders slumping as Washington closed and locked his door because he was regarding the older man in mild concern, “Are you all right?” he asked the former Freelancer, genuinely curious.

Washington nodded, “I just have a lot on my plate right now.”

“I can relate.” Tucker patted Washington’s shoulder sympathetically and the blond flinched because he didn’t deserve it before turning to reassure the small boy next to him, “But I’ll always have time for _you_ , Junior. No matter what.”

Washington watched the warm interaction with a smile on his face as he tried to ignore the guilt pooling in his gut.

*****

Sherry found Ohio sitting on the rooftop of one of Charon’s safe houses, the sky overhead beginning to soften lightly.

“Figured I might catch you here.” The other woman with her curly black hair cut short said conversationally, “You always do seem to like going up to high places to think.”

“I—I do not!” Ohio scoffed at the notion, but could only glare back at the knowing smirk that crossed the tan-skinned woman’s facial features in response _(dang, that made the scar under her left eye look even_ cooler _somehow)_. She let out a small sigh and kicked her feet over the ledge she was sitting on instead, “Where is everybody else?”

“They’re all inside playing a video game, which means we’re safe from something breaking. For the moment.”

There was a loud crash from inside, followed by a trio of loud, raucous laughter as a voice that belonged to Darryl distinctly went, _“Oops!”_

Sherry winced, “Or not.” She joked, and Ohio couldn’t help but giggle slightly, hiding the act with a blue glove covered in white and rubine accents. “Anyways,” there was a light note of aggravated fondness in Sherry’s voice as she no doubt thought of the mess that awaited them inside, “We’re all trying to de-stress after that fight with those wannabe heroes.”

“Yeah.” Ohio nodded her head and brought her knees up to her chest, “Were the higher-ups mad with how it played out?”

Sherry sat down next to her without making it a big deal _(so she wouldn’t either)_ , a thoughtful frown on her face, “They weren’t exactly thrilled, but since we retrieved the data we’re still in the clear.”

Ohio let out a sigh of relief. The last thing any of them wanted was to be dumped out in the middle of nowhere again, or worse. Charon wasn’t exactly big on second or third chances.

Sherry seemed to have become incredibly adept at reading her mind because she grinned knowingly towards her, “Hey, if it wasn’t for everyone being disappointed in us, we wouldn’t have even met in the first place, you know?”

Ohio’s face darkened slightly in a blush, “Sh—shut up!”

They sat there in companionable silence for a few altogether pleasant minutes before Sherry cast a contemplative glance the pink-haired woman’s way, “Hey, how are you doing?” She asked in earnest seriousness, “Your team seemed pretty shaken up to see some of those Specials.”

Ohio frowned slightly and nodded, “Wash… _Washington_ and Agent Carolina were Freelancers too.” She explained.

Sherry let out a low whistle, “It must have been tough then, seeing them again.”

“Yeah, yeah, it was.” The dark-skinned woman confirmed rather quietly.

The other woman dressed in white with red trim said nothing, instead simply placing her hand on the former Freelancer’s shoulder. Ohio allowed herself to lean into the touch for a few precious minutes, “What do you think Charon is going to use these files on Specials for anyways?” She finally worked up the nerve to ask when they rather reluctantly pulled apart.

Sherry frowned, “Honestly?” She asked, stretching her arms above her head, “It’s probably best not to think about it.”

“Oh.” Ohio’s expression fell even though she knew Sherry was probably right, “Then, are we doing the right thing?”

Sherry considered her answer for a moment and then shrugged, “Eh, it’s pretty much all relative at this point.” She finally admitted, seemingly not caring one way or the other even though she clearly had an idea.

Ohio fixed her with one of her _“patented”_ serious expressions that Iowa and Idaho always teased her about, “Your _honest_ opinion, then?” She pressed, wanting to know what the other thought.

Sherry sighed, her contemplative frown deepening as she rubbed the back of her head, “Not really.”

“What…” Ohio swallowed, uncertainty and nerves threatening to overwhelm her, “What should we do then?”

Sherry fixed her brown-eyed gaze to the sky above them, “I have no fucking clue.” She replied honestly.

Ohio joined Sherry in silently watching the sky, neither of them realizing that they were now holding the other’s hand.

*****

“I can’t believe you forgot that your parents left for the week again,” Antoine Bitters remarked towards Matthews as he opened the other teen’s door with the spare key his own family had for when Matthews’ family just upped and left for days at a time with hardly any notice, “Though I guess it’s more like you _never_ want to remember, huh?”

Bitters’ mother would always sigh sadly and say that there was more than one type of abuse. Virtual abandonment, whether someone was even at home or away, was a type of one too.

Matthews’ face was red as he walked into the hardly lived in space right behind his friend and neighbor, “Things would have been okay if I hadn’t lost my key.” He muttered lamely as he stood awkwardly like a stranger in what amounted to his own living area.

Bitters glanced at him disbelievingly, “Would it?” He asked, gesturing over at the cuts and scrapes adorning Matthews’ pale face now, and the handcuffs still attached to his person. The auburn-haired young man was fortunate his glasses were all right.

Matthews’ blush actually deepened on account of Bitters’ continued scrutiny, and he turned his head to the side to avoid further eye contact awkwardly, “S—sorry.” He mumbled, “I just…I just don’t want to keep dumping things onto you and your family.”

Of course the nerdy kiss-up was feeling guilty about his parents being uncaring assholes. Bitters mentally gave them both the finger, though that didn’t help. Much. Finally, he told Matthews, “I think this time it’s pretty different.”

He turned to the small kitchen area before whatever weak protest the other boy would give, rummaging through its one cupboard until he found the rather dusty First Aid Kit in the back. He hoped the shit in it was still good since it clearly hadn’t been used in, well, forever.

Matthews winced as Bitters applied antiseptic to his injuries, the dark-skinned teen frowning in thought, “Why were you jumped anyways?” He asked, genuinely curious as to why anyone would go after Matthews of all people.

Matthews looked away again, playing with his fingers in that nervous habit that Bitters had known him to have ever since they were kids, “I…I really don’t know.” He stammered out.

“Bullshit.” Bitters could always tell when Matthews was lying, ever since the first time he had said he was _“fine, really”_ when his parents had forgotten to leave him enough food for the day.

Matthews bit his lip but said nothing, apparently trying to be a stubborn asshole at the moment. Well, he should know well enough by now that Bitters could be one too. He glanced down to the cuffs just then instead, his stomach clenching at the thought of just how long his friend had been in them.

“I think I can get those off.” He told Matthews, gesturing to the cuffs before a serious look crossed over his face as he met Matthews’ hazel eyes with his own dark ones, “But promise me you won’t freak out, okay?”

“Are you…?” Matthews blinked, wide-eyed underneath his glasses, “Are you going to burn them off with your power?”

Bitters gaped at him in shock, not sure how to process his secret being exposed, “How…how the fuck do you know that?” He demanded breathlessly.

Another of Matthews’ stupidly cute blushes warmed his cheeks as he once more glanced to the side, “You weren’t the best at controlling it when we were little, back when you didn’t think anyone was looking.” He admitted softly before surprising Bitters by fixing him with an even stare, “B—besides, knowing that sort of thing just comes easy to me.”

Matthews smiled all the more sheepishly in response to Bitters’ bewildered stare, “I—I sort of have a power too in a way, you see?” He told the teen with multi-colored hair, a self-deprecating tone to his voice as he added, “Though it isn’t nearly as cool as everyone else’s.”

Bitters could only stare dumbfounded at Matthews for a minute more before words began tumbling out of his mouth: “You have _got_ to be shitting me.”

*****

Grif stepped into Simmons’ apartment, looking around with mild interest at the lack of pretty much any evidence to signify that someone was living there save for the organized piles of trash that Simmons still needed to throw out.

“Huh. And here I thought that some of the shitholes that Kai and I lived in were bad.” The tan-skinned Special stated almost conversationally.

Simmons bristled at the remark, “I just haven’t had the chance to decorate or clean in a while, all right?” He informed Grif, though that was an outright lie. Truth was, he just hadn’t seen the point when he might be leaving without any notice sometime soon. Not wanting to dwell on or reveal that unpleasant train of thought to Grif, however, he asked instead, “What were you doing here with Matthews? His condition…”

Grif sighed and sat down on Simmons’ bed without asking as Simmons bit down an irritated remark in response, “Yeah. About that.” The orange-wearing man began, running a tired hand over his dark eyes, “Being a fucking Good Samaritan is way more trouble than it’s worth if this is going to be the thanks I get.”

Simmons sighed, his annoyance ebbing away in light of what he had been able to piece together so far, “Of _course_ it’s a good thing you helped him out, Grif.” He said to try and reassure the heavyset man, though he frowned a moment later, “But we still don’t know why he was attacked in the first place.”

That was definitely an issue. Not knowing something so vital could be dangerous in and of itself.

Grif shrugged in response, “It probably has something to do with him being a Special too.”

Simmons’ green and red eyes both lit up, “R—really?” He was surprised since he had had no idea Matthews was a Special too.

Grif nodded, “Yeah, though I don’t know what his power is yet.”

Simmons made a mental note to ask his young neighbor the very next minute he was able to do so, frowning in thought at this bit of new information, “Then the danger for Matthews might not be over.” He said, frown deepening.

Grif nodded his head in agreement, “Those assholes seemed pretty serious,” he explained contemplatively, “So I doubt this will be their last attempt.”

Simmons barely repressed a shudder of his own, knowing just how tenacious those types of assholes could be, “We’ll have to take him with us to Church’s later for his own protection then.” He mused, knowing how much better fortified Church’s residence was compared to this crummy apartment building. Doubly so if Tex was visiting.

“This is turning out to be a shit-ton more work than I expected.” Grif let out a long-suffering sigh before he stood up once more, “Might as well call Kai and let her know where I am.” He muttered as he glanced over at Simmons rather expectantly, “Got any extra blankets around here?”

Simmons blinked, unsure as to why Grif was even asking, “W—why?”

Grif raised a black eyebrow as if that should have been completely obvious, “Because I’m going to be sleeping here until it’s a civilized hour. Duh.” He said like he was talking to an idiot.

“B—but…!” Simmons tried protesting but found he couldn’t formulate proper words just then. For some reason, his face seemed to be overheating both organically and cybernetically at the prospect. He’d never had anyone sleep in his room before, regardless of who it was!

Grif waved off his weak protests easily, “It will make things easier for us to both keep an eye on the kid, right?” He asked as if it was perfectly logical.

Which it was. Despite the pounding in his chest _(maybe he needed some cybernetics maintenance?)_ , Simmons really couldn’t argue with that logic.

His forced-upon him temporary roommate smirked at realizing he had won this round, “And it’s also mighty generous of you to let your guest take the bed, I might add.” Grif stated smugly with all the confidence of someone who could talk their way out of most situations.

Simmons let out a defeated sigh, figuring he should go and tell both Matthews and Bitters about what they were planning to do instead of trying to fight a pointless battle he knew he probably wasn’t going to win at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matthews’ power is Detection, for anyone who might be curious about what it is. :D Which could make him rather useful if someone was wanting to hunt down specific things or people. Hint, hint. XD
> 
> There’s quite a few interactions and reveals in this chapter, but somehow it ended up not being nearly as long as the last one was? Odd, that. 0_0; But I hope that it was an enjoyable read regardless, and I will be posting AT LEAST two more chapters for _Specials_ before switching over to another WIP this time around to make up for the updates being so lengthy and sporadic.
> 
> Next time in _Specials_ : Church reluctantly takes in another houseguest who has a pretty much permanent visitor along with him. Ten virtual cookies if you can guess who they are! Also, Grif debates what he is going to do still but manages to invite a certain red-haired someone to stay over at his place (priorities! XD), Carolina is on the Meta’s tail but runs into some journalists, and Tucker tries to give his favorite babysitter Jensen some relationship advice (which totally will work out fine, RIGHT? XD). I hope everyone is looking forward to it! :D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! :)


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Worlds Collide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

“Let me get this straight,” Leonard Church stated as he stared down the fidgeting teen in front of him, “Your power is pretty much detecting shit, right?”

Maybe Church was gruffer than he had needed to be considering that Matthews flinched at his tone. Plus, the other kid practically glued to the auburn-haired kid’s side since they got there got up and stepped forward protectively towards the still sitting Matthews.

Church sighed. He was definitely _not_ a people person. It wasn’t his fault. They all sucked compared to how fucking awesome he was! Younger people especially were annoying enigmas to him. The cobalt-wearing man was fairly certain that, even if Freelancer’s experiments hadn’t fucked him over in that department, he had intentionally blocked all of his memories from when he was that age. It wouldn’t surprise him if he had.

“Not only can I pick up on Specials and their abilities, sir,” Matthews finally got the courage to say, “But I’m usually pretty good at telling when something around me is out of the norm too.”

Antoine Bitters, the other kid Grif and Simmons had dragged into Church’s place, scoffed, “Not like you ever use that to your advantage.”

Oh, _fuck no_. Church could feel a migraine coming on as Matthews obviously flustered at the jab. He was not dealing with teenage relationship drama, at least not without taking Grif and Simmons down with him for bringing it into his house.

“Even so, that type of ability could prove quite troubling in the wrong hands.” Sheila pointed out calmly to help diffuse the situation.

“Yeah, that’s pretty fucking obvious.” Church agreed as he briefly shot her a grateful look for the save, “It was really fortunate for everyone that Grif stopped those guys.”

“Eh, they were ruining my _me_ time anyways.” Grif stated as if it were no big deal from where he and Simmons were standing in the doorway of the overly stuffy sitting room that Church was fairly certain his dad must have let his great-grandmother decorate from the look of the place when compared to his usual spartan aesthetic taste ( _but like fuck would he ever have the heart to change it: Gram Gram was awesome!_ ).

Matthews turned around in his seat to once again shoot the heavyset man an adoring, grateful smile and Simmons immediately rolled his eyes at the way Grif seemed to soak it all in while also looking apathetically annoyed at the attention all the same.

“At any rate,” and Church really wanted to have his head examined because he couldn’t believe he was fucking suggesting this, “You probably shouldn’t be heading back to your home just yet. I imagine if it was Charon who tried to grab you, those assholes have been monitoring you and know where you live.” He swallowed down bile, “It…it might be better, _safer_ anyways, for you to stay here. Or something.”

“Oh, oh!” From where he had been sitting next to Sheila’s translucent form, Caboose piped up excitedly at the possibility, “We can have a sleepover!”

Church felt his left eye start to twitch.

As Matthews pondered over the idea, Bitters stared evenly at Church with a knowing, speculative frown on his face, “Aren’t you just going to use him too then?” He astutely asked.

Man, did this one have trust issues. And he was fucking smarter than the mutli-colored hair had led him to believe. Church supposed it was understandable, given the circumstances.

Plus he appreciated the straightforwardness, so he paid it back with a direct and honest response, “That would be entirely up to Matthews.” Church told them, not denying the possibility.

Yeah, he would be lying if he said that the bespectacled kid’s abilities wouldn’t come in handy for missions and the like. Not to mention he wasn’t running a fucking charity. But, still, he wasn’t enough of a jackass that he would force someone into doing something against their will.

He was _not_ his asshole of a father. Church was his own kind of asshole.

“I—it will be okay, Bitters.” Matthews tried shakily reassuring his friend, “My family won’t be worried…and…” His face nearly matched the color of Simmons’ maroon-colored hoodie, “S—so long as _you_ visit, I think…I think I’d be okay.”

Bitters’ face darkened considerably with the signs of a blush itself as he turned away from his friend with a fairly stiff nod. Unfortunately, his challenging gaze landed on Church instead, “You got a problem with that?” He demanded in an obvious attempt at covering up his feelings.

Church bit down on saying something incredibly snarky and sarcastic about getting the hose out should there be any kind of make out sessions where he could walk in on them, instead saying, “Not really, especially since you’re pretty powerful yourself.”

“Yes,” Caboose agreed rather seriously, nodding his head, “If Bitters stays over too, then we can toast marshmallows without turning on the stove that I am not supposed to touch anymore and really don’t ever.”

…Church made a mental note to ask Sheila just how many fire extinguishers they had on-site.

*****

Richard “Dick” Simmons was truly glad that the matter involving how to keep Matthews safe seemed to be settled. He noted that the nervous young man visibly relaxed in his seat, though the cyborg couldn’t help how his own anxiety continued to spike as he replayed the past conversation over and over in his head.

What if Church was right and this Charon group was currently monitoring the apartment building that he, Bitters, and Matthews lived in? He had spent so long trying to avoid detection, and yet first Church showed up and now _this_!

Letting out a shaky breath, the redhead quickly turned around and dove into the hallway beyond.

“Sheila and I can give you a tour, starting with Church’s rooms!” Caboose could be heard saying excitedly to the two teens behind him.

“Goddamn it, Caboose.” Church muttered loud enough to be heard from outside the room.

Simmons took two or three large steps away from the still open door, the voices turning into muffled traces of sound as he tried gathering his spiraling thoughts into anything remotely coherent. He was more than just a tad surprised to realize that Grif had followed him out a second later.

The tan-skinned man stood beside him, casting a curious sideways glance his way, “You okay?” Grif asked in that typically nonchalant way he had, as if the answer wasn’t really any of his concern.

Simmons supposed that truly was the case in this instance since it was his problem and his alone, after all. But he felt oddly grateful for the probably driven more by boredom than anything else gesture all the same. Grif’s lazy presence helped to steady him and kept him grounded in the present instead of focusing on his ever building anxiety.

“Y—yeah. Course I’m fine!” Simmons let out a shaky, totally unconvincing laugh as he tried playing it cool, “It’s just this whole thing with Matthews, and those guys being after him?” He gestured helplessly with his hands, “It’s a lot to process.”

“Yeah, their targeting a kid is beyond fucked up.” Grif agreed, no doubt thinking of his sister.

Simmons relaxed at not having to admit to his other issue with the situation in light of how troubling Matthews’ attempted kidnapping situation alone was, “Tell me about it.”

…It hit far too close to home, in more ways than one. Thus Simmons’ unease.

As if picking up on his thoughts after some odd minutes of silence fell between them, Grif spoke up, “Are you worried about them keeping tabs on your building or something?”

Simmons froze, both blood and energy thrumming through his veins and circuitry. He wondered just how much like an open book he so embarrassingly was if a relative stranger, or sort-of friendly acquaintance now he supposed, like Grif could pick up on that. His parents would have been so ashamed to see him like this.

Grif didn’t seem to be waiting for an answer, frowning with a look in his brown eyes as if he was inwardly debating something. At length, he asked, “Wouldn’t you want to stay somewhere else if you could? For the moment, I mean.”

Simmons blinked, taken aback by the sudden and decidedly personal, for Grif, question. He was so caught off-guard by it that he answered truthfully instead of trying to play things off as no big deal, “I would.” For a second, he wondered if Grif had used his power of influence, but decided it probably didn’t matter either way given his own inner anxieties.

Grif nodded, as if Simmons’ response somehow settled something for him.

“Go and pack whatever shit you need. Meet me back at that diner where we talked before.” He wasn’t looking in Simmons’ direction anymore, instead fishing around in his pockets for a cigarette.

“Wha…?” Simmons was so shocked by the remark that his usual comments about how Grif was going to ruin his health with those kinds of habits fell by the wayside.

“I just don’t want to hear any bitching about lack of sleep or whatever later on, all right?” Grif muttered before promptly heading outside to murder his lungs with a smoke.

It still took a few seconds for a dumbfounded Simmons to realize that Grif was actually _offering_ him a place to stay.

*****

Carolina slipped into the wreckage of the crime scene through a blasted out window on the second floor, completely unnoticed by the few remaining law enforcement members finishing their reports as she frowned at the absolute carnage that met her green-eyed gaze.

This lab facility had been housing a Special who had volunteered to remain there due to the volatile and unpredictable nature of their powers. It had been specially designed to withstand destructive blasts as a result. Yet it appeared to be just as gutted and wrecked as any other building might be if a large-scale explosion happened directly inside it.

The redhead’s hand touched a burnt wall remnant, and she frowned as ash and plaster fell to the ground when she removed her fingers. A broken beaker or some other type of glass container crunched further underfoot as she landed on the cracked floor.

The Special who had lived here had put up one hell of a fight she marveled as her eyes trailed over to the blood splatter in the distinct shape of a body on the ground, surrounded now by police tape.

But the creature known now as the Meta, she refused to think of it as anything remotely connected to Maine anymore, was _also_ incredibly powerful and absolutely ruthless in its attempts to steal powers in the vain hope that would somehow help to make it truly complete.

Carolina grit her teeth. The smell of blood, ash, and _death_ would burn its way down her nostrils even if she held her breath for as long as she could. She hated how insidious so many of the Director’s projects had been, and with this one still out terrorizing the city of Chorus…

Carolina was fast, but she always felt as though she was constantly one step behind in trying to correct the horrors that her father had brought to life.

That frustrated her beyond words. _Especially_ after…

“This way!” A female voice that sounded oddly familiar commanded, and Carolina swore under her breath before flying up through a huge hole in the ceiling to the next floor overhead.

Concealed from view, she peered down as a reporter and cameraman clad in white and cobalt came into view to also look over the devastation of the crime scene. The former Freelancer recognized the woman as noted journalist Dylan Andrews, most recently from her coverage of the ongoing talk and fierce debates in regards to registering Specials.

The brunette in question frowned as she glanced over at the blood stain on the ground while her younger cameraman tried not to get sick from the sight, “This entire scene is almost exactly like the last one.” Dylan remarked before turning her gaze to the dark-skinned man next to her, “Jax, are you filming?”

He nodded, his queasiness abating a bit as he started to chatter on endlessly to cover up his reaction, “Looks like the set of one killer horror movie.” Jax remarked before frowning in thought, “But was it really a good idea to sneak in here? The police could catch us any second!”

Dylan smirked knowingly, “In that case, we can just bluff about how they left the door open.”

“Well, technically there would have to still _be_ a door somewhere here, but I think I get your point.”

“Good.” Dylan moved as close to the dried splatter as possible without messing up the surrounding police tape with a critical glance, “Right now, I want to see if there are any clues that were overlooked. Given how many of these _accidents_ have been occurring and where, I have a feeling we’re looking at something a lot more criminal in nature.”

“ _Dun-dun-dun_!” Jax intoned dramatically, causing the reporter to glare at him though he continued smiling brightly as if he didn’t notice.

Carolina let out a small sigh as she pulled herself away from the hole. Now even _more_ civilians were getting involved. Just perfect.

She left on a gust of air from the same broken window frame she had entered from earlier, not catching the rest of the investigative pair’s conversation. Her mind was racing as she wondered just where next, or perhaps more accurately _who_ , the Meta would strike.

No doubt Kimball would be informed of this incident again by the police. She should probably stop by her office to see what the private investigator thought of this particular event. A part of Carolina was still shocked that the woman had agreed to help her out at all given how abrasive she knew she could be when it came to serious matters like this.

Briefly, she also thought about checking in with Church and his team following how abruptly she had left the previous night, but she figured doing so would be pointless, as she doubted they would be having too eventful a time as it was.

*****

Lavernius Tucker managed a good deal more self-control than most ever gave him credit for when he realized that he almost left his apartment a third time without grabbing his keys, still waiting for him on the kitchen counter. He didn’t even swear out loud even though he so fucking wanted to as he ducked inside the space once more, still smelling faintly of the earlier impromptu Mac and Cheese breakfast, to grab them.

Jensen was already there, sitting beside Junior at the table as he tried to get through his homework early so that he could enjoy the rest of his weekend without any hassle. Where the kid got that work ethic Tucker never knew, but he felt a surge of pride at how awesome his son was all the same.

Thank fuck that it hadn’t been a school day and Jensen had been available. He had gotten a brief message from Church about some sort of “ _fucking emergency_ ” going on at his place and the dark-skinned man had been wary of dragging his son over there if his goateed friend was in the middle of having yet another stress-induced aneurism.

He _almost_ didn’t notice the concerned look in Jensen’s eyes, the one that Junior was too engrossed in his homework to look up and see. Tucker let out a small sigh, not like he was a counselor or anything, before asking, “What’s wrong?”

The tan-skinned girl started, having apparently been so lost in her thoughts that Jensen hadn’t noticed his return. A blush crossed over her freckled features, “I—it’s nothing, sir.” She tried underselling what was bothering her, “I just…haven’t heard from a friend in a while.”

Tucker couldn’t help but make a face. He had only met one of Jensen’s friends before and, while he and Junior had inexplicably hit it off, something about the teenaged boy’s mannerisms had annoyed him, “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about that Palomo kid, would you?” He asked her, already suspecting the answer.

She nodded her head, a considering frown looming across her face.

He wracked his brain for the last bit of information he could remember about the usually always jovial teen, “Didn’t he recently move to one of the classier districts with his family?”

If Tucker was remembering shit correctly, Palomo’s mom had gotten a promotion or something and they had to relocate as a result to be closer to her new place of work. After all, Chorus _was_ a pretty fucking huge city.

Jensen nodded, straightening the dejected slump in her shoulders as she tried reassuring him with a smile, “I’m sure he’s still just busy from the move.” She said, although whether or not she was trying to reassure him or herself, he couldn’t say.

Tucker scoffed, “He’d definitely be an idiot if he doesn’t get in touch with you again sooner or later.” He tried reassuring his favorite babysitter, “I’m sure he’s fine. Give him another week or so.”

Jensen nodded, her smile growing even though the worry didn’t completely fade from her brown eyes, “You’re probably right. Thank you, sir!”

“No problem.” Tucker reached out and rubbed the top of Junior’s head affectionately, “Okay, I’m off for _real_ now to see what’s bugging your Uncle Church this time. See you later, little man.”

Junior was still fixated on getting his homework done as quickly as possible, but he grinned up at his dad and waved with his pencil-free hand, “See ya, Dad.”

With that, Tucker was out the door again, only pausing briefly in his trek to the elevator in front of Washington’s closed door. He wondered if the former Freelancer would want to come with.

Thinking back on the dark rings under Washington’s eyes and how tired his smile had seemed throughout their early morning breakfast together, he ultimately decided against knocking. It was probably better to let the guy rest for a change if all that heavy, delicious comfort food had finally helped him to get some sleep.

With a noticeably happy skip to his step at the thought, Tucker continued on his way.

*****

The remains of the cigarette had long since been smashed underfoot, though Dexter Grif was still outside of Church’s place and wondering just what had possessed him to even offer to have the redheaded nerd temporarily stay at his and Kai’s place.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he was getting too soft or sentimental or some other bullshit.

But the heavyset man just figured that it would be better in the long run for not only himself but for everybody else too if Simmons wasn’t even _more_ of a bundle of walking, anxious nerves. A hard feat considering that the cyborg always seemed to be on the edge of a breakdown. The guy really needed to learn how to just fucking _relax_.

Besides, he told himself, it wasn’t like he didn’t still owe the guy for saving Kai before during that fight with the Triplets. That was all Grif had to view this gesture as: simply returning a favor. Nothing more, nothing less. He nearly actually bought that.

Speaking of things he needed to repay…

He stepped even further away from Church’s residence since he had no way of knowing just _how_ aware either Church or Sheila could be within the vicinity of their home. Grif began walking in the direction of the diner where he had told Simmons he would meet him at later.

Even if he didn’t really _want_ to do this, he couldn’t risk those guys going after him or Kai. He knew they were dangerous. He’d have to have been fucking oblivious to not get _that_ when he had met them at the park earlier. After all, the two mercenaries had made a very clear point of letting him know that they knew exactly where Grif and his little sister lived should he decide to do anything to try and stop them. The threat to get him to comply so that everything could continue to be fine and dandy for himself and Kai had been pretty implicit.

Taking out his phone, Grif dialed the number that the one who had called himself Felix had given him, mentally debating just how little he could get away with actually revealing about what was currently going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO, GRIF, DON’T DO IT! XD …Between Grif and Washington, there are quite a few double agents at play at the moment, albeit quite reluctant ones. Makes me wonder just how things will play out once the others get wind of their actions?
> 
> Yes, I’m being silly and acting like I don’t know yet just to avoid potentially spoiling something. XD I’m a huge dork like that. :)
> 
> Also, yep, the Palomo mention is going to be quite important later on down the road too. I have plans, my friends, I have them! *laughs maniacally and then goes into a coughing fit* XD
> 
> Next time in _Specials_ : Tucker finds out that Church’s “ _crisis_ ” largely involves just having teenagers in his house, Doc and Donut share a moment together and discover a shared love of cooking for others, Grif shows Simmons where he will be staying over at his and Kai’s place and then they have to bail Kai out of some trouble that she landed herself in. All with a surprise appearance by Caboose’s “ _mysterious_ ” big sister! :D
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! :D


	15. Chapter Fourteen: Vertigo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Legal Disclaimer: I do not own _Red vs. Blue_ or any of the show’s characters. They are the rightful properties of Rooster Teeth.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Lavernius Tucker muttered under his breath as he stood by the training hall underneath Church’s home, eye twitching at what he was currently witnessing, “First you propose a Specials team to fight crime and now you’re fucking babysitting?”

At least Church looked sort-of sheepish in the wake of his teal-wearing friend’s ire since he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with the details when he told Tucker he had a _“fucking emergency”_ and demanded Tucker’s assistance.

“For the love of…” Tucker trailed off as he peered further into the training hall to note that Matthews and Bitters were currently preoccupied with Sarge and Caboose, thankfully out of earshot, “I have my own kid I should be spending time with at home. I don’t fucking need more here.”

The two seconds of miniscule regret that Church had displayed melted away into his usual staunch stubbornness as he squared his shoulders, “What _else_ would you fucking suggest I do, Tucker?” He questioned rather defiantly, “Let Matthews go back to his place to most likely get kidnapped by Charon or whoever the fuck it was who went after him?”

Church knew how to twist a knife in deep and Tucker couldn’t help but wonder what he would have wanted if Junior were in Matthews’ place, so he deflated a little, sighing, “Of course not.” He admitted as a considering look crossed over his dark-skinned features, “But you have to admit that this is getting pretty fucking complicated.” Tucker watched as Matthews pointed excitedly to something in the hall, tugging on Bitters’ sleeve. His mind went once again back to a smiling Junior showing him his latest completed school project, “What about his family?” Tucker inquired, knowing that if he were one of the teenager’s parents he would be fucking worried sick.

Church glowered, “They’re apparently a bunch of assholes who don’t even notice when the kid’s around most of the time.” He informed him, “So we don’t have to worry too much on that front.”

“Damn, but,” Tucker let out a low whistle even as he felt a tinge of sympathy for Matthews, “We may have dodged a bullet there.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Church nodded his head in agreement, but there was a faraway look in his eyes and a growing frown on his goateed face as he watched the two teens with Caboose and Sarge.

Tucker remembered how distant Church’s relationship with his own family had apparently been, save for with Carolina and Gram Gram ( _may she rest in peace_ ). But his sympathy for his friend only lasted the usual minute they gave one another for that sort of shit before a whole new thought crossed his mind and he had to literally hug his sides to keep from rolling on the floor with sudden, incessant laughter.

He couldn’t help it! On top of Caboose, Church had inadvertently adopted two teens. Bitters seemed pretty glued to Matthews so he doubted he would stay away for long. Plus, the asshole always had Tex and Carolina to contend with. He just couldn’t make things easy for himself if he tried, and Tucker found that fucking hilarious.

“Wha—what the fuck’s so goddamn funny, asshole?” Church demanded, though judging by his reddening face he suspected already that it had to do with him.

Figuring it was probably best for his eardrums _not_ to tell Church exactly what he had been thinking, Tucker managed to stifle his laughter and wipe away a few stray tears, “It’s nothing, dude.” He tried reassuring a rather dubious-looking Church before changing topics entirely, “So what’s our next move?”

The abrupt, rather serious-minded question did the trick of taking Church’s mind off of the justifiable suspicion that his friend had been laughing at him for a solid five minutes as he frowned, “Honestly? I haven’t got a fucking clue.” He stated, mulling things over in his head for a moment before speaking again, “I figure our best bet will be to try and track down more Charon agents like the Triplets for information,” he sighed, “But I don’t fucking know how to do that yet.”

Tucker frowned, a part of him inexplicably wondering just what _Washington_ of all people might think of Church’s plan. Or, more accurately, lack thereof. Washington was one of those people who probably planned things years in advance.

“…And you want to cradle her tightly but gently, like a lover.” Sarge’s voice cut into his thoughts, “But a lover who can and will blow your enemies to smithereens right there alongside you!”

Wait, what? Tucker blinked and looked over towards the older man in red’s voice. It appeared as if Sarge was trying to teach the younger trio around him proper shotgun holding techniques.

“Oh, wow! I never would have thought of that, sir!” Matthews stated happily in response.

“Group activities are so important in relationships.” Caboose intoned rather seriously.

Only Bitters looked remotely doubtful, “How many dates have you been on?” He asked Sarge, wisely suspect.

“More than you, Dye Job.” Sarge huffed indignantly, “Why, with that clear lack of imagination, I should pity whoever catches your eye.”

Just as Bitters snuck an inconspicuous glance towards an oblivious Matthews for some reason, a keen sense of dread washed over Tucker as Sarge started bringing up the topic of shell loadings.

“Yeah, someone should probably stop that sooner rather than later.” Church murmured with a resigned sigh, “Before he gets to the romantic notion of dismembering his enemies.”

Tucker could only nod his head in horrified agreement as the two friends made their way over to avert the catastrophe in the making. They would definitely have to figure out some way to move things along before shit got even _more_ complicated and firearms-prone than they already were.

*****

Franklin Delano Donut hummed happily to himself as he made his way to the front door of Church’s massive residence, intent on getting some fresh air. All the pink-wearing man needed to feel refreshed once more was just to get his mouth wrapped around a few good, deep swallows of the stuff and he’d be good to go!

Sarge and Lopez had both arrived at Church’s for their own visit, Sarge positively _thrumming_ at the notion that Doctor Emily Grey would be joining them later on too. Donut found Sarge’s obvious crush quite cute.

When last he had seen the older man in red, it had been down in the training hall where he had been attempting to bond with Caboose and Church’s new ward along with the teenager’s friend with the fabulous hair job. Donut had always wanted to go for extreme layers of coloring like that, so he thought that Bitters should be thanking his little cousin for the style instead of being so testy when asked about it. Tucker and Church had been down there watching too, and he had run into Sheila and Lopez sharing a lovely heart-to-heart ( _or heart gear to holographic heart gear in their case?_ ) upstairs.

Since, in Donut’s humble opinion, three was only good company in select situations after boundaries and guidelines had been discussed ( _to each their own though, he was no prude!_ ), he was left with stepping outside by himself for just a minute or two.

“But I’m not sure that is such a good idea.” Doc’s familiar voice was heard saying the moment he opened the door, “What if they find out?”

**“They won’t if you just keep quiet, you fool!”**

“We’ve talked about this before. Name calling isn’t very nice, O’Malley.”

**“Oh, how I loathe you.”** A deep, exasperated voice let out along with an accompanying sigh.

Donut blinked from the partially open doorway to see if there was someone else there beyond the purple-wearing man’s back that he had just missed, but it appeared as if his own brown eyes were not deceiving him. Sure enough, only Doc was standing there, evidently bent over in a conversation with himself.

As the inner discussion continued in muted whispers that Donut couldn’t make out, Doc’s head bobbed every so often. Donut waited a full two minutes just to be polite before clearing his throat and beaming his most non-judgmental and positively sunny smile the brown-haired man’s way, “Hey, Doc! Fancy seeing you out here!”

His cheerful greeting caught the medic by surprise. Donut felt a tad guilty when the other jumped a few good meters off the ground to sheepishly spin around to face him with a hand clenched over his chest, “Oh, Donut!” Doc let out a nervous laugh, “I didn’t see you there!”

Come to think of it, Doc may have already been here when Donut had come over following Caboose’s excited message of a sleepover with new friends. Donut felt a bit guilty that he hadn’t remembered that little detail until just now, but he vowed to try and make up for it. No time like the present to keep plowing on through, right?

“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” The pink-wearing man asked, opening the door fully to step beside the bespectacled man. Glasses were a good look on Doc.

Doc blushed slightly at the query and focused his eyes on the ground, his hands shaking slightly as he balled them into fists at his sides, “I just…well, sometimes I feel a bit like a third wheel in groups like this, you know?” He admitted tentatively before casting a look over at Donut as he further explained, “Because of my power.”

Ah, so was he referring to groups of Specials in general then? Donut briefly wondered what other circles Doc ran with before shoving that thought from his mind. His teammate was clearly upset, and he had vowed to always give his fellow man a hand if he could get the job done.

He supposed that canceling someone else’s most likely cherished and relied upon ability even if only temporarily wasn’t probably the most popular of party tricks amongst many Specials. Given that, he felt rather sympathetic to Doc. It wasn’t like he could help it!

A thoughtful frown crossed over Donut’s face, “Sounds to me like you just haven’t found good friends yet.” He told Doc succinctly as he smiled once more, “I, for one, am glad you decided to not pull out so soon.”

Doc looked flabbergasted at his admission and for some reason rather flustered over it too if his reddening cheeks were any indication, “R—really?” He asked, sounding perplexed.

Donut nodded enthusiastically to get his point across, “Of course!”

Doc returned his smile with a rather nice-looking one of his own, and Donut suddenly remembered something that he was downright bursting to share, “I found the kitchen earlier, and that pantry is just chockful of nuts!” He informed Doc, ‘Want to help me make something we can share with everyone? That would be nice!”

Church in particular always looked as though he could use more to eat. Matthews too, now that he had met the skinny teen.

Doc seemed to mull his suggestion over, “Well, I don’t think anyone has any nut allergies we have to worry about and they _are_ nutritious, so,” he smiled slightly towards Donut and nodded his head in agreement, “Let’s do it!”

“All right!” Donut beamed, and he couldn’t wait for the two of them get down and messy in this circumstance.

Whatever conversation Doc had been debating amongst himself seemed well and truly forgotten as they made their way towards the kitchen.

*****

Richard “Dick” Simmons and Grif had really only stayed at the diner long enough for Grif to remark on how sad Simmons’ lone duffle bag was ( _“That’s all you brought? Well, it wasn’t like you had a shit-ton of stuff there to begin with…”_ ). They also got something greasy and no doubt horribly unhealthy to eat before they began to trek to Grif and Kai’s home in the horribly named Rat’s Nest district.

The walk was filled with a companionable sort-of silence even as Simmons continued having a mental debate with himself over whether or not this was a remotely good idea. He nearly crashed into Grif’s back, not even realizing that the heavyset man had stopped moving.

The house that they currently stood before was a small, modest affair but its outside and yard were surprisingly more well-maintained than Simmons had imagined Grif’s abode to be.

He gaped up at it in surprise, Grif watching him with an amused smirk on his face, “It’s nicer than you thought it would be, right?” He asked, a tinge of pride in his voice as he fished his keys out of his pocket, “You wouldn’t believe how much Kai and I had to save up just to buy it.”

Simmons could imagine, as he suspected he would have been able to buy at least three of his shitty apartments with the money needed to buy something like this. A chuckle escaped Grif’s lips as he continued on with a nostalgic look lighting up his tan features, “Or what we sometimes did to get that money.”

Simmons frowned slightly at the admission, not sure he wanted to know, “Illicit things?” He couldn’t help asking all the same.

A playful glint crossed over Grif’s eyes at the distaste he heard in Simmons’ question, as if he was getting a kick simply from riling the cyborg up, “Naturally.” He replied apathetically.

Simmons rolled his eyes as they made their way to the door and Grif opened it, stepping off to the side to allow the redhead to enter first. While the outside had been well-maintained, the space inside the house was somehow even _messier_ than Simmons had imagined. There were piles of trash and junk practically everywhere he looked, and he was honestly shocked to not see fungi growing in the corners of the living room or rats trying to drag fast food bags back to their nests.

The look of absolute shock on his face must have been one Grif misinterpreted because he grinned proudly and said, “Lucky you, we cleaned last week.”

Holy shit! This was what they considered fucking _clean_? Simmons resisted the overwhelming urge he had to run just then, his hands twitching subconsciously as Grif showed him upstairs.

The room the heavyset man led him to was, fortunately, actually quite clean despite everything being coated with a fine layer of dust. The maroon-wearing man would have to do something about that later, but at least a closed door would provide a bit of a barrier to the mess found in the rest of the building.

“This is where you can sleep or whatever.” Grif told the cyborg without preamble, gesturing to an old futon on the far wall. As Simmons carefully set his bag down on it, the orange-wearing man continued, “There aren’t any rules here,” his dark eyes narrowed pointedly, “Save for not messing around with my sister.”

Simmons felt his face heating up, “I—I wouldn’t!” He managed to sputter out indignantly.

Grif acted as if he hadn’t spoken, apparently wanting to recite this particular spiel from memory before he forgot it, “You’re in charge of shit like your own meals too, unless someone’s feeling generous.”

Simmons nodded his head briefly in understanding, the arrangement honestly sounding more than doable. He felt himself relaxing just a fraction at that realization, even as a small surge of panic hit him at the fact that he hadn’t seen what either the bathroom or the kitchen looked like yet.

“Th—thanks, Grif.” He stated, surprised at his own genuine earnestness despite his anxiety regarding cleanliness.

Grif seemed momentarily taken aback too, though he quickly covered that up by shrugging his shoulders as if the whole thing was no big deal at all. Maybe it wasn’t really to him, but to Simmons it meant a whole lot. “Hopefully the whole mess with Matthews will get fixed soon,” Grif said, “And you’ll be back to your shithole apartment in no time.”

Simmons glanced at the floor, “I hope so.” He muttered sincerely before a sudden thought crossed his mind and he glanced around, “Where is Kai, anyways?” Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen her at all when they had come in.

Grif shrugged just as his phone beeped rather incessantly. He peered down at it and swore at whatever he saw on the screen a second later, “We have to go.” He informed a thoroughly confused Simmons as he pocketed the device, “Looks like a certain someone’s gone and embarrassed the family again.”

Simmons blinked, not quite sure why he was getting dragged into whatever was going on but following Grif out the door all the same.

*****

The door to the Landing Zone opened with a telltale chime, Simmons and Dexter Grif bracing themselves for the momentary security scan that accompanied walking into the establishment.

“Hello again, sirs.” John Elizabeth Andersmith said in greeting from behind the bar, a nervous light in his blue eyes despite his kind smile.

There was a familiar, stomach-churning smell hanging in the air that caused Grif to crinkle up his nose slightly and a gasping Simmons to try to unsuccessfully block the odor with his hand, looking more than just a bit queasy himself. Grif made it a point to not really look around for the source.

“So,” Grif tried to go with a touch of humor to break any potential ice with the bartender, “Has Kai killed anyone yet?”

Shit, he at least _hoped_ it was more of a joke than an inkling of the truth. After all, he suspected that Andersmith wouldn’t have just messaged him if it had been _too_ serious of an altercation.

“Not at all!” The tall, black-haired man was quick to assure him before rather hesitatingly admitting, “Though things did get rather messy.”

“I bet.” Grif rolled his eyes and tried not to focus on the vomit smell anymore than he already had.

“I could have handled those guys myself, you know.” At a table in one of the far corners, Volleyball was lightly chastising the source of all the woe and drama and unpleasant scents.

Kai shook her head defiantly, “Yeah, but why should you have had to?” She asked, making a face, “They shouldn’t have been such fucking assholes to begin with!”

With his little sister’s words, Grif was starting to get a very clear view of what had happened here, “So,” he started as he carefully made his way over with Simmons hot on his heels, “Your brilliant solution was to make them all so sick with your power they puked their guts out?”

Kai’s eyes flashed angrily as she stood up from her barstool so quickly that it came crashing down behind her, “Why are _you_ getting so uppity when you were the one who taught me that trick for dealing with jerks in the first place?” She demanded.

Grif felt Simmons’ eyes on his back and he let out a long-suffering sigh, “You know I hadn’t meant an entire fucking restaurant.”

Kai let out an indignant huff, crossing her arms over her chest, “It was just four or five guys, and they were all being assholes to Volleyball.”

“Kai,” Volleyball in turn looked both exceedingly touched and exasperated, though Grif suspected from the light in her brown eyes that _“touched”_ might be winning out, grasping the other young woman’s shoulder consolingly as she glanced towards Grif, “Is telling the truth, sir.”

“They’re correct.” Andersmith said, having moved away from the bar to join them, “I was just about to ask the men in question to leave myself.”

Grif sighed, his anger and annoyance fading away in light of the fact that Kai, in her own special way, had only been trying to help someone else out. For some reason, he felt oddly proud. It seemed he was really getting fucking soft, “Fine, but you’re still going to have to help clean this place up.” He relented.

“Oh, that’s a given.” A new voice emphatically declared from behind the group, causing the small gathering to start and turn around to find a tan-skinned woman with her black hair in a tight braid behind her skull and dressed entirely in silver. She seemed less than impressed with the scene before her.

Andersmith saluted again as Volleyball straightened her posture next to Kai, “Ms. Caboose!” The bartender exclaimed excitedly.

The woman let out a sigh as she stated gently, “We’ve been over this before, remember, Andersmith? It’s Niner.”

“Short for Four Seven Niner, a pilot callsign.” Volleyball whispered informatively in an aside to Kai.

“Whoa.” Kai said, raising an eyebrow, “That’s pretty hot. Think she could make me a member of the Mile High Club?”

“Goddamn it, Kai!” Grif exclaimed, although it was Andersmith’s earlier remark that caught both Grif and Simmons’ attention only a second later as the two turned to look at one another without even realizing they were doing so.

_“Caboose?”_ They both repeated incredulously at the same time.

Recognition dawned on Kai’s features as well, and she strummed her fingers on the table, “Oh, yeah,” she said, “Isn’t that the name of the super big, really cheerful gray guy we’re hanging out with now?”

The woman calling herself Four Seven Niner raised an eyebrow herself at Kai’s comment, glancing between the three strangers in her midst with newfound interest, “Just how exactly do you guys know my brother?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I went and introduced O’Malley into the plot all sneaky-like here! XD I do believe this is actually the first time I have EVER written a POV for Donut before, so I hope I did him justice and that all of the innuendos made sense!
> 
> Haha, Sarge would so describe holding a shotgun like that and you all know it. XD And dang, Tucker, you have it bad. XD
> 
> …Speaking of having it bad though, Grif and Simmons are so already there with their _“communicating to one another through shared looks alone”_ thing and they don’t even really realize it yet. Silly, silly guys! XD
> 
> Next time in _Specials_ : Four Seven Niner takes her crew to have a chat with Church about her baby brother and gets even more surprise reunions; Doc and Donut make some tasty banana bread (chockful of nuts, of course! XD); Sheila and Lopez get rather lovey-dovey; Grif makes another surprising offer to Simmons to help him rest; and Sherry, Darryl, and Terrill get an assignment they really aren’t sure they want to complete.
> 
> I’m posting this just before a major hurricane is supposed to hit nearby, so I hope everyone in its path takes care and stays as safe as possible!
> 
> Thank you for reading! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Check out this lovely _Specials_ comic illustration by the incredibly talented [blankslate101](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/):
> 
> [Power Talk and Fax Machines!](https://blankslate101.deviantart.com/art/RVB-SPECIAL-CH-3-Comic-Page-726723056)
> 
> ...Words cannot express how truly astounded and grateful I am for this. The entire scene is gorgeously illustrated, and I love both the flow of the dialogue and the facial expressions for Grif and Simmons here throughout the panels. Thank you so very, very much! :D


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